The Moon Has Spoken
by doctorSnape
Summary: Severus Snape is having odd dreams about a black haired snapping female whose hair uneases him, and Dumbledore has been keeping an eye on her. What makes the OotP end up in Ireland conspiring from a house on a cliff? STORY COMPLETED
1. My dreams, never quite as it seems

Chapter 1

My dreams, never quite as it seems 

"Vitals!", an imperative voice exclaimed urgently amongst the beeps and noises of the multiple machines and people surroinding a body on a bed. "Sonia, vitals! Quickly now!"

"Just a moment, doctor Greene, I'm almost there…"

"I don't _have_ 'just a moment', Sonia", snapped doctor Greene. "And neither does the patient. Now, do you _have_ those vitals or will I have to stop CPR to get them myself?"

That seemed  to get to the already flustered Sonia, for she finally brought herself to whisper:

"It's just that--- I can't hear a blood pressure, nor feel a pulse".

"Well, I assure that's not due to your overwhelming clumsiness, Sonia, although I would like to blame it on that. No, that's because the patient's on full cardiac arrest. Now, tell me capillar glycaemia", doctor Greene commanded, slightly breathless.

It was then that Severus noticed she was kneeling on the bed by the patient's side, whilst rhythmically pressing at his chest, then realeasing, and pressing again, to apparently no end. She was leaning the full weight of her body on the patient, and a part of Severus he didn't know he still possessed suddenly thought that the loose tendrils of sleek black hair that had escaped the clip, and swayed gently with her movements framed her pale face in a rather attractive way.

    Somewhat astonished at that random thought, Severus focused his attention once again on the scene before his eyes.

"Sonia? What happened to that capillar glycaemia?"

"Um… um… Hold on…" Sonia dropped something and doctor Greene rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"Someone?", she claimed, still pressing the patient's chest.

"Please, doctor Greene", Sonia begged, "I'm right on it, just let me…"

But someone was already ahead of her. 

"30, doctor Greene".

"Bingo", said doctor Greene.  "Right, get me 50 cc of D50, and I mean get them _now"_

"IV push?"

"IV push indeed. And pass one amp of adrenaline through the other line as well".

Once they did as told, doctor Greene looked at the screen on the right side of the bed and sighed.

"Drat, he's on VF… All right, people, back away. I am going to defibrillate. Jeanne? Paddles, please. Thank you. Charge at 200. Ready? People, I'm gonna hit. Everyone CLEAR!", she cried, as everybody stepped back from the bed. Once she made sure no one was in contact with the patient, doctor Greene pressed the buttons on the paddles she had placed on the patient's chest. Severus was startled to see the patient's limbs shake violently, and he wondered what on Earth had she done to him, but apparently she didn't care to explain for she asked instead:

"Rhythm?"

"Still VF"

"Right then, charge at 300. Everyone CLEAR", and she hit yet again.

"Seems he's in, doctor!" , Sonia exclaimed happily. Doctor Greene gifted her with a withering look that Severus himself would have been proud of, and then turned her attention to the screen, peering at the somewhat arrhythmic mountains and valleys that seemed to be so important.

"No, he's not", she said, harshly. "For crying out loud…. Charge at 360! CLEAR!", and yet again, the doctor hit and the patient jumped.

"Still fibrillating", someone said.

"Damn! All right, Back to CPR then!", she climbed onto the bed again and kneeled to resume her compressions. They kept it up for what it seemed forever, alternating with what was called defibrillation, until doctor Greene called to a stop.

"Asystolia for fifteen minutes, and completely mydriatic. It's time to pronounce him".

They all looked up in unmistakeable consternation.

"Time of death, 2 hours and fifteen minutes", doctor Greene said.

         Severus was sure the dream was bound to end soon, but he was proven wrong as suddenly he was looking at the black haired woman named doctor Greene once more. 

She was alone in what it seemed to be a changing room, sitting on a wooden bench with her back leaning on a locker behind her. She had discarded the hairclip, so her hair was falling heavily in a lank cascade to her waist. She seemed tired.

But most of all, sad.

  She turned as someone behind her spoke.

"Fiddler?", it was a gray haired man in a white coat.

"Yeah."

"You all right?"

"Guess so."

There was a moment of silence.

"You did all that was there to do".

"Still, he shouldn't have died", Fiddler said firmly, and suddenly, Severus got a glimpse of what was going through her mind. _I felt life still within him, something went wrong._

"You can't always win, Fiddler, dear. You must learn that", said the gray haired man and put a hand to her shoulder. "You're the brighest resident I've ever had, but even you can't beat death".

Severus thought the bloke sounded oddly like Dumbledore.

"Oh, I know, doctor Allen", Fiddler replied. "But he wasn't supposed to go yet".

"How do you know?"

"I… just do".

Doctor Allen stared at her intently but said nothing. Fiddler stood up and made a move to leave, but at the last moment she turned her head, causing her hair to fly around her.

"Could I ask you a favor?"

"Certainly".

"Move Sonia to another ship, or move me. I just _can't _work with that dunderhead".

Dunderhead, Severus thought. A word he used quite a lot.

Back in his dream, Dr. Allen smiled.

"Oh, Fiddler…", he started, but something in her greenish-blue eyes made him reconsider. "All, right, then, I'll see what I can do".

"Thank you, Ambrose", she said, and without another word, strode out of the room, with a martial gait that oddly resembled Severus' own trademark pace. 

   Severus Snape slowly woke from one of the weirdest dreams he could ever remember having. 

He had dreamed of _her_ again.

Indeed.

A dream full of beeping machines and wailing people, all of them surrounding an inconscious person and following the orders of a snapping, black haired female that reminded him strongly of himself.

He had been dreaming of her for over two weeks now, on a nearly daily basis, and although he hated to admit it, the thruth was that fact was beginning to disturb him.

At first, he'd thought he'd been dreaming with his subconscious' female version of himself, dark-haired, pale-faced and barking in exasperation at a growing number of white-dressed dunderheads, just as he would have done to Longbottom.

But this was getting out of hand.

"Drat my subconscious", he cursed, for he truthfully felt the last thing he needed that morning was yet another of those fully detailed dreams swarming with Muggle procedures and terms he didn't understand nor care for… And with Fiddler.

The woman he was beginning to know through his dreams.

  But as the day went on, he found out that his mind kept reliving the latest dream, analyzing the scenes in his head and marveling at the fact that he kept longing for the night to come.

He told himself it was for curiosity's sake only, but at the end he had to accept he only wanted to see her again.

"Nonsense!", he snapped mentally, angry at the mere acknowledgement of a longing he kept hidden even to himself. "She's not even pretty".

And he was right, she wasn't, or at least, not by the usual standards. She wasn't blonde, tall nor slim, she didn't wear make up, and Severus didn't remember ever seen her wearing another thing than a loose surgery scrub and a white coat. 

But it was the hair, those incredibly black strands of lustrous straight hair that fell to her waist and framed her face what kept Severus' mind wandering back to the image of her all day long. Because it reminded him of something he couldn't quite pinpoint.

He was brusquely brought back to reality when a running something bumped carelessly into him. He lowered his piercing gaze to the offending object, and smirked.

_Potter._ He should have known.

"Potter, aware as I am of the fact that it takes you an extraordinary amount of wits to keep focused on your steps as you wave your cheering fans, I must ask you to keep from getting on my way. 50 points from Gryffindor".

"I didn't see you coming, _sir",_ Harry replied harshly.

"Get your glasses adjusted, then", Severus said, dismissevily and strode away, robes billowing, leaving Harry shaking with rage.

Had Severus decided to use Legilimency just then, points wouldn't have been the only thing deducted from Harry.

Severus Snape entered his heavily warded chambers and headed directly to his bathroom. Despite of most of his students' opinion, Severus Snape indeed enjoyed his daily evening bath. It was, perhaps, the only time and place when he allowed his own wards to fall and examined thoughts and feelings objectively.

He poured himself a glass of brandy and stepped into the near-scalding water. Slowly, he felt his taut muscles begin to relax and his eyes drifted shut.

         And the image of Fiddler Greene popped out of nowhere in his mind.


	2. The Moon Has Spoken

**Chapter 2.**

**The Moon Has Spoken.**

The troubled waters washed mercilessly the base of the cliff. The Ocean, grayish sometimes, but mostly of a dark blue color, showed all of its rage, as if it wanted to tear down the house that insolently crowned the cliff, framed by the Sky's bright hues of purple and crimson.

A small figure, wrapped in a long black cloak was climbing up the tortuous path, pausing every now and then to release the hem of her cloak from the thorns in the way.

It hurt…

 And it would always hurt. It was Destiny.

  Cold wind was blowing. The dark figure was suddenly surrounded by a thick fog, and the wolves howled. But she kept going. She feared no wolves…

    For no wolf was as frightening as the Wail of the Banshee.

The cloaked figure stopped in front of a wooden gate and helf out a smal, pale hand to push it open. She glided inside, removed her cloak and hung it on a chair. The hearth cracked merrily and the hound was sitting in front of it, not moving, gazing intently at the flames.

"Ceo, I have arrived".

A quiet whisper was heard, and all of the sudden, as usual, a gray haired woman came out of the shadows clutchin an old parchment in her wrinkled hand.

"Same thing as always has happened, I presume", she croaked.

"Yes. Same thing…"

"Sit down, Oidhche", Ceo said. "Your sister shall join us soon".

Oidhche did as she was told. Ceo put a heavy cauldron to the fire and begun stirring its contents with a large wooden spoon.

Then a loud, echoing bang was heard.

"That must be her", Ceo asserted. She put the spoon aside but the door opened of its own volition to make way to Oidhche's reflection… The the cause of their Rejection.

But that was not it, Ceo told herself. It was not only the unbelievable similarity between Oidhche and Báistighe, it was not only the fact that they had been born the same fateful day the cause of their disownment. Oidhche and Báistighe were _different._ They were like Ceo. And the Family, as the Druids, feared what they could not understand.

"I have heard the wolves", Báistighe spoke. "Have you, my sister?"

"As well. I believe…"

"A soul", Ceo cut in, "A soul shall perish tonight".

Both sisters turned their heards to look at Ceo, but she went back to her cauldron, ignoring them.

"Did the Moon tell you…?", Oidhche begun, but the Wail didn't let her finish.

"You have heard that", Ceo said then. "The Wail of Death. That's the Banshee".

"But we—", Oidhche objected.

"You have not yet learned to tell from Night of Death and Night of Life, my daughters".

And after saying so, Ceo went silent.

"I have gone to see the Druids", Báistighe spoke suddenly. "Ceo, you are right. Someone shall die tonight. It can be Oidhche… Or it could be me".

"What have you said, you foolish girl?", Ceo hissed.

"I am merely telling you what the Druids told _me"._

"Did they not refuse to see you?"

"Oh, in the beginning! They insulted me, and cursed me, of course", Báistighe said with a light smile. "But then, out of the blue… They have let me pass to see the Druid".

"And… He said…?" asked Ceo, curious now.

"Oidhche and myself are not allowed to exist", said Báistighe evokingly. "It is not usual. Hence, The Banshee has chosen one of us to become her heiress. The other one… shall perish, for her blood will bring life to the new Banshee. That is… what the Druid has said, Ceo."

Ceo only shook her head, her expression unfathomable. Oidhche fixed her gaze on her, but said nothing.

"However", Báistighe added, "they have not said yet who it is that shall perish. The Banshee will wail at midnight… and she will chose".

"Not Báistighe…", Oidche mumbled to herself.

"Oidhche", her sister replied, faithful echo.

"Then, all we can do is wait", Ceo said.

And she drifted back to her memories, as the Wolf howled, marking her words.

~§~

It was Samhain; the Family anxiously waited for the Birth of the Heir, amongst the rites and celebrations. But the Druids disowned the Mother for she had given birth to the Daughters of the Banshee.

  They dared not sacrifice them; they all feared the Banshee, even the Druids.  Instead, the Mother was sentenced to die as a noblewoman, in the Circle of Fire. The Druids, with a sharp stone performed deep cuts from her shoulders to her wrists, tied her hands to her back and made her kneel, dressed with her ceremonial robe, among the flaming logs.

"You die as a noblewoman, Fairrge, wife of Fearg", the Druid chanted, "for you have only been a victim of the Banshee. She has chosen you to carry her creatures in your womb. We, the Druids, are hereby preventing you the pain of beholding what you've helped to create, and thus condemning you". 

The Mother remained silent and insensible to The Druids' homily, and it didn't take long for her to die. Several years later, people still muttered respectfully as they passed through the remains of the Circle of Fire, for the legend said that, right before collapsing, Fairrge had laughed, with a cackle like no one have ever heard before; it made the drums rumble and the tripods had fallen, killing the Great Bard…

And no matter how hard they had tried, no one had been able yet able to remove the smoldered logs.

   Ceo took care of the Daughters of the Banshee. She named them Oidhche and Báistighe, true to the old tradition that said babies should be named after the Nature and its circumstances on the day of their birth. And it had been a stormy night.

She didn't take them to the Mistletoe Caves, that had been her home for more years than she could count. Instead, Ceo took the Disowned to the House on the Cliff, and it was there where they grew up, away from the Family.

Until Ghaoth appeared.

He was a very respected member of the family, direct descendant of the Great Bard that had been killed the same night as Fairrge. Ghaoth himself had been ten years of age at the time.

Ceo knew all of this. And she knew as well that he was predestined to one of the Daughters of the Banshee.

That is why she trembled when she saw him coming, riding a black horse, fruitlessly searching for his hunting mates, ending up at their door, meeting at last the Daughters of the Banshee and the old woman watching over them.

Ceo had seen the Full Moon and heard the Wolf howl; she knew that encounter was to bring fatal consequencies…

 From that day on, Ghaoth was not the same; The Family did not know him anymore, nor they could understand his demeanor. Ghaoth would mumble all day long, whispering lexis that sounded taken from an old incantation, always ending with the same word: "Oidhche". 

 Night, that's what it meant, and that they knew. But, the incantation…?

It meant, even though the Family only knew at the Sacrifice Night, his husband's vows to the Daughter of the Banshee, whom he had married, endowed by his own power as a Bard's son. 

They both believed that no one else knew, but themselves and Báistighe…

 But one of Ceo's virtues was to know it all.

~§~

"The Wolf is howling, Ceo", Báistighe announced, bringing her back from her reflections. 

"It is almost Midnight", Oidhche added.

"Then, you shall get prepared", Ceo said, piercing Oidhche with her inquiring gaze.

"Yes, Ceo?" , she asked.

"You must bid farewell to your husband", the old woman said. "And your son… he shall perish as well".

Oidhche showed no astonishment. She wrapped herself in her cloak and went outside, to the fierce wind _(Ghaoth…),_ that seemed to urge the ocean to hit the cliff harder with each wave. 

Ghaoth appeared out of the blue, along with the shrieking wind, maybe the same airstream that had extinguished the flames on the Mother's body, maybe the sameone that had blown the day of his birth, maybe the one that had given him his name. 

Oidhche said nothing, just pointed at the Moon and showed her face to Ghaoth. She had been Marked. 

Ghaoth knew what was bound to happen when the Banshee wailed at Midnight. And he knew Oidhche was not the Chosen One. Why was she marked, then?

"We both carry the Mark", Oidhche replied, hearing his thoughts. "We're both her heiresses. 

Ghaoth trembled  and he said with hoarse voice:

"It will not be an honorable death".

"I know. The Chosen One will be killed by The Family… But the new Banshee shall avenge her blood".

Ghaoth remained silent. He stared at Oidhche intently, as if he wanted to imprint her image into his memories forever.

"The fate of your Heir has been written as well", his wife spoke, always looking to the Moon, "and his death has been pronounced before his birth".

She took and amulet from her neck, mumbling strange words as she raised it towards the Moon, wind jumbling her cloak and hair. She then handed the amulet over to her husband.

       And then they heard the Wail of the Banshee.

Báistighe was the Chosen One. She lay on a Funeral Pyre , hands and feet bound, celtic eyes fixed on the Moon, not caring, nor hearing, the insults of The Family.

She was still alive, but she was not there anymore.

The young Bard received the sword from the Druid's hands, and was carried along towards the pire in a chair held by four warriers. Ghaoth raised the sword above his head and made it shine with the moonlight. The priests rolled their drums, and the Druids invoked the gods.

Ghaoth let the sword fall and filled a bowl with the blood pouring from Báistighe's neck. He descended from the pyre and offered Oidhche the bowl.

Ceo watched the whole scene from afar.

The priests lit the pyre and Báistighe's body burned to ashes, that flew with the wind. Oidhche took the bowl from Ghaoth's hands but instead of drinking it, she tossed it into the flames.

The Family, numb with bewilderment, gaped at the Daughter of the Banshee.

"I carry within me the Heir of the Bards!", she cried. "Hear, oh, Family, and shudder! The Young Bard has married Oidhche, the Daughter of the Banshee! The Moon has spoken, oh, Family, and Death reigns tonight!

 You have spilled my sister's blood to bring the new Banshee to life. But her blood gives me no life!", Oidhche wailed. "She shall not die for me to live! Learn, Family, that when you slaughtered Báistighe, you've killed Oidhche as well!"

 And Oidhche threw herself to the pyre, as Ghaoth's searing lament rumbled through the night.

"You have betrayed us, Young Bard", the Druid spoke, white faced, red eyed, mindless to his pain. "You have engendered a son with the Banshee, you have turned your back to your Blood, to your Father, and to his death, not avenged. You have…"

But Ghaoth was not listening. He kept his eyes fixed in Oidhche's amulet. A spark flew from the pyre towards him, and Ghaoth did not realise he was dead until he watched his ashes mingle with Oidhche's as they danced together in the wind, up to the sky, in the breaking of dawn.

~§~§~§~

  Severus woke up, breathing heavily, his body matted with sweat, his hair a mess and his heart beating it's way out of his chest.

 Merlin, that dream had been _so_ real…

They all were, in fact, but nonetheless, this particular one had been frightening for the dark meaning within it. Severus had quite a grasp on Muggle psychology and he knew all too well what his blasted subconscious was trying to tell him. 

And, for the first time of his life, maybe, he was honest enough to admit someone besides the Dark Lord was actually fearsome.

  Fiddler Greene.

She had been there as usual, but she wasn't involved in her usual Muggle activities, nor was she snarling at someone, or perhaps using that blasted thing she called a PC, not even having a sip of wine in her bubblebath. He shivered with delight as he remembered just what that dream had done to him, and then cursed out loud and willed himself to remain focused.

_The Moon has spoken._

The mere memory of those hoarsely spoken words made his skin crawl, for he recalled his last chat with the Headmaster: the centaurs had approached him with news from the skies, and it wasn't good news.

The Moon had spoken, indeed.

_You have spilled my sister's blood._ Severus himself, as a Bard's son, sacrifycing the maiden. The Druid, white-faced, red-eyed… The Dark Lord. He knew of Severus' betrayal.

And the other "her", the one with child, throwing herself willingly into the pyre and killing Severus' bard-self in the process. He couldn't fathom that last part, nor what did he had to do with it, but at least one mystery was solved; Fiddler Greene was a Banshee, and some part of him had known so all along. Her hair gave her away mercilessly.

He made up his mind. He had to see Albus. Right away.

Ever since his dreams of Fiddler had become a permanent attendance in his nights, Severus knew he would have to let the Headmaster know, and more sooner than later.

But he had been renuent, for he found her presence soothing, after years of either sleepless nights or horrid nightmares, and he told himself he didn't want to lose that blissful rest he'd become used to for over a month now. He knew Albus would take matters into his own hands and then he would lose his snapping, sarcastic, dark haired Miss Sandwoman forever.

And he couldn't bring himself to let that happen.

  Severus Snape wasn't a man who usually dwelt in the past, nor did he roam about the treacherous paths of the what if's. He had always accepted the consequences of his actions, and was willing to endure them. But he found himself wondering for the first time, had he stayed on the Dark Side, would he have had the chance of getting acquainted with Fiddler?

For he was sure now she was not a creation of his mind's hidden longings. She was _real_, and she was dangerous. All the Muggle things he had always witnessed her doing only served to worry him the most, for he could only think of a reason that would bring a Banshee to the Muggle World. And that thought wasn't pleasant.

He could put it off no longer. He throwed his legs out of the bed and walked slowly towards his bathroom, where he took a quick shower and got hastily dressed.

He was about to Floo to the Headmaster's office when he felt the call of the Dark Lord. He grabbed his left arm convulsively and fell to his knees, breathing heavily through the searing pain. He waited until it subsided, leaing on the hearth for support.

"Nyx", he called hoarsely. "Nyx, come here".

A black wolf emerged from a shadowed corner and stalked elegantly towards Severus.

"Nyx", he said again, patting her fur. He got to his feet slowly, and held out a shaking hand to the nearest bookshelve, from where he grabbed the Pensieve where he stored all his Fiddler-Dreams. He quickly added the last one, and then addressed to Nyx again.

"I must go", he said. "Make sure this gets to Dumbledore".

Nyx stared at him with yellowing eyes. She nodded slightly. 

Severus turned on his heels and strode out of the Dungeons.

~§~

"What am I supposed to be seeing, pray tell?" Severus Snape asked, scowling at the crystal ball the Headmaster was gazing at.

He had returned from a Dark Revel and he was, to say the least, nauseated and exhausted. He had known all along, of course, there was still the matter of Fiddler to discuss, so his hopes weren't up when he finally made it to the safety of his dungeons.

 A letter from the Headmaster was waiting for him.

"Severus,

I have seen your Pensieve.

Please meet me at my office when you see it fit."

He never wasted words, the Headmaster.

So there he was, sitting in front a cup of tea and a cristal ball, trying very unsuccesfully to read the Headmaster's thoughts.

"You shall see in a moment", Albus Dumbledore replied, blinking calmly, but without looking at him. "Lemon drop?"

"No, thank you".

"I wonder why everyone keeps rejecting them".

Snape said nothing. 

"Anything yet?"

"Honestly, Headmaster, if you think I share Trelawney's dubious talent for babbling nonsense, you---"

"That's her, though" Dumbledore interrupted, making a shushing gesture with his hand.

Against his will, Severus Snape fixed his ferocious gaze on the crystal sphere, and he couldn't tell whether he was bored or annoyed as he saw a figure through the fume.

"Ah, yes… She does indeed look like her mother.Wouldn't you agree?"

Snape's thin lips curled in disdain.

"How should _I_ know?"

"Oh, dear man, you have _eyes!_ Take a look at her and tell me what she looks like! Besides you, that is". His blue eyes twinkled in amusement at the expression on Severus' face.

Snape leaned forward for a better look and frowned.

"A Muggle?" he said with unhidden disdain.

"Oh, no, my boy, nothing of the sort! Look, Severus, _look…"_

So he did, and suddenly his sallow face grew blank and flat. It was Fiddler.

"I knew it wouldn't take you too long".

"How can it be?", he asked harshly.

"Well, that certainly remains unclear. And Minerva couldn't give much information as she hasn't seen her brother in quite some time".

"Minerva _McGonagall?_ What does she have to do with anything?"

"Ah, she's the girl's aunt…" 

Severus Snape wasn't someone who got easily surprised, and when he actually was, he managed to hide it well.

He turned his eyes to the sphere and stared at the figure in it.

He didn't notice when Albus Dumbledore moved his wand, and all of the sudden he felt the room spinning, and he clutched the sides of his chair, despite himself, to prevent from falling.

~§~

"Fiddler… Oi, Fiddler!"

"What?"

"What yourself! You were staring at nothing…"

"Ah---Oh--- Was I?", Fiddler brushed impatiently a long strand of jet-black hair, and fixed her greenish-blue eyes on her friend.

"Sorry, Penny" she said. "I guess I was just daydreaming".

"Met someone, have you?"

"Don't make me laugh". Fiddler snapped, going serious. "Come on, let's go back to work. Mr. Dahl from bed 234 is giving everybody a hard time".

"Still haven't figured out what he's got?"

"No… My guess is a mild case of hypochondriasis plus Lonely Bloke Syndrome, but if I say that to Dr. Allen, he'll snap my neck".

Penny laughed, then said appraisingly.

"Well, all you have to do is let him near that hair of yours and you'll have him where you want".

That comment earned a disdainful raised eyebrow.

"Most likely he'll run out screaming, he will. My hair does nothing but scare the wits out of people".

"Oh, Fiddler, but it is _wonderful!",_ Penny cried, looking at it enviously, and Fiddler knew, although she couldn't say how, that Penny meant it.

"I am not so sure about that", she said. "But really now I---"

"Doctor Greene!" someone called from behind them.

"Oh, for crying out loud, _what now?"_ Fiddler muttered and turned to face the bloke.

"It's an emergency---!"

"I should think so, since we ARE in the ER" Fiddler snarled, but turned on her heels and strode towards an open door, her white coat billowing behind her, her long black hair flying at her back.

         The room became clearer as the spinning stopped and Severus eased his nuckle-white grip on his chair. He then shot an inquiring glance to the Headmaster.

"Well?" he asked.

"Oh, I would have thought you'd figure it out, Severus. I mean to say, with your upbringing, I figured you'd be rather quick on picking the signs".

Severus gifted him with his trademark scowl.

"Well. So she is real. I had figured that much. But I cannot fathom why has she gained your utmost attention, Headmaster". He begun. "As for her---_features"_, he said the word as if it pained him, "I know she's a Banshee. That last dream was clear enough. But you said McGonagall's brother had something to do with her?"

"Very well, my boy, now do the math" Dumbledore said with a chuckle.

Severus drew in a deep breath and added through gritted teeth:

"She's a Half-breed, is she not?"

"Not 'a Half-breed', Severus; "THE" Half-Breed".

A raised eyebrow greeted that remark.

"Simply splendid" Snape sneered. "Ruddy Harriet Potter, is she?"

Dumbledore gave a hearty laugh.

"Ah, Severus, you've hit the wound! No, lad, nothing of the sort. Although they do share some things… They were both brought up by muggles, but Fiddler has never been mistreated, though. Not to my knowledge, that is; she's reached almost 26 years of age without acknowledge of her own astonishing powers, and yet… some of her… life circumstances seem to have occurred precisely _because_ of them. Her profession, for instance.

Snape sneered.

"Muggle doctor, Merlin spare us".

Dumbledore's expression hardened. 

"You'd be surprised of what they can do, let alone of what _Doctor Greene _actually does".

"What, she heals people with her mind?" Snape snorted.

"She could do that, if only she knew she can".

Severus fought very hard to keep his jaw from dropping. 

"So you mean to say--- She could actually… Is that why you're keeping an eye on her?"

"No, she couldn't actually defeat Voldemort" said Dumbledore as if he'd read Snape's mind. "Harry will be doing that, as we all hope. But  my sources tell me… She's somehow linked to Harry, and hence, to Voldemort's annihilation. And it's because of _that_ alone that I've come to a decision… Some rather interesting characters have started to focus in her".

Snape gave a curt nod. He'd understood. Completely.

"She is to be brought at Hogwarts, Severus. As soon as it can be possible. We cannot afford to lose her" Dumbledore sighed, and then he added, as though as if he already knew what Snape was about to ask: "She's full with Earth Magic, Severus. Earth magic and amazing intellect, no need for a wand there. Somehow she managed to inherit both the best part of her banshee and wizarding heritage. Ever been near a Banshee?"

Snape shaked his dark head.

"Ah well. You have certainly missed an overwhelming experience. I met one myself, long ago… Had to wear earmuffs, because her wailing was something of a tale, but I tell you you can actually feel the power flowing through her… It is amazing. Well, you'll certainly feel it when you meet Fiddler".

"Why didn't you keep her here on the first place, Headmaster?" asked Severus.

"A rather good question, I say. We couldn't find her. Her adoptive parents were close friends to Wallace McGonagall. They felt it in their heart to take care of his child when he died. And they hid her well. Until now".

"And what happened to the B---Mother?"

"Died giving birth. I think it is the first time in history a Banshee has actually bore a wizard's child; not to mention she bore it into full term and healthy birth".

"I've certainly never heard of such a thing happening. And I've read a whole lot, mind".

"Yes, it is a wonder. But then, Wally was always something of a strange fellow. He got in Minerva's nerves, I say!" Dumbledore seemed amused.

"And she's lived like a Muggle…"

"All her life. Oh, of course, she knows strange things happen all the time around her, and you've heard her, her features, or rather, that hair of hers, scares the wits out of the Muggles. After all, she's in Ireland, and Banshees are well feared there. A reminder of our Auld Celt Era…"

Snape remained silent, thinking of what he'd just heard. The Headmaster was right, his own upbringing fully qualified him to recognize this Fiddler lassy for what she was. From a distant childhood he was starting to forget, Severus pitched some memories of his mother's respectful celebrations and sober respect for the Wiccan Sabbats, the Candles, the Oils, the Herbs that were his very first contact with Potionmaking…

"That is correct, Severus" said Dumbledore, blue eyes twinking. "Oh, and she was born in Ostara".

Snape glared at him, but he was fully aware of what the Headmaster meant.

"Yes… I am familiar with the tradition", he replied. "Ostara. The Vernal Equinox. 'Winter has pased, and those who have survived the harshness of the Darker Days celebrate… Life begins anew. I---Understand".

"But do you? She was born in Ostara, and Harry… was born in Lughnassadh. When the Sun King, now Dark Lord, gives his energy to the crops to ensure life while the Mother prepares to give away to her aspect as the Crone---"

"Potter's own mother".

"Yes… And Fiddler. Their birthdates are linked, Dark Lord, Motherhood and the beginning of a new life… I must confess I don't understand it, myself". Dumbledore sighed once more, and struggling with what it seemed to be the millionth lemon drop, he concluded: "However, we must see that Fiddler finds her safe way here".

A/N.

_Ceo_: Gaelic for "Fog".

_Oidhche:_ Gaelic for "Night".

_Báistighe:_ Gaelic for "Rain".

_Ghaoth:_ Gaelic for "Wind".

_Nyx:_ Greek for "Night".

_Ostara: _Wiccan Festival, celebration of the Vernal Equinox, held on March 21. The spring Equinox is the point of equilibrium,  the balance is suspended just before springs bursts forth from winter. The God and Goddess are young children at play.

_Lughnassadh:_ Or August Eve, the Celtic Festival in honor of the Sun God, is held on July 31th. It also happens to be HP's b-day. It's the celebration of the first fruits of the harvest. The Sun King, now Dark Lord, gives his energy to the crops to ensure life while the Mother prepares to give away to her aspect as the Crone.

I think the underlying meaning is quite interesting…

Please review!!!!


	3. Ever Dream of Me

**Chapter 3.**

**Ever dream of me.**

It was Severus' first sleepless night for over a month. He had even considered going through his emergency cabinet, where whe stored the most potent sleeping potions known to wizardkind, but he regarded it as a weakness and hence discarded the idea.

So there he was, his back against the pillows, eyes wide open and hair a mess, brooding. 

He needed Fiddler to sleep, and that knowledge infurated him to no end. And there was still the fact that he was to meet her soon. He wasn't sure of the date or the circumstances of her arrival, but he was certain Albus would have one of his genial plans up his sleeve. He always did. 

As if reading his mind, a golden feather suddenly shone inside the hearth, and Severus sighed. Fawkes' signal. Dumbledore was calling for him.

He got off the bed, and threw over himself the first set of robes that crossed his way. He charmed his hair back to its usual limp appearance and not wasting time in walking, flooed direclty to the Headmaster's office.

"Ah, Severus!" I trust I didn't wake you up?"

"You know you did not", Severus stated stiffly.

"Oh, are you having trouble sleeping? That is such a pity. But Molly Weasley told me of this tea of hers and it supposedly works wonders. Maybe you should try it".

"I shall consider it", he said, not meaning to. 

"Alas, let us get down to business. I summoned you because there has been a slight change of plans regarding Fiddler Greene".

"Oh?", Albus had caught his attention now.

"Yes, you see, I had planned on owling her a formal invitation to pay us a visit. I even had thought of throwing a Ball and such. But I am afraid that will not be possible".

"Why not?", Severus asked, trying not to smile at the Headmaster's miffed expression.

"Well, I have received intelligence that our dear doctor might have been either stalked or attacked. I did not  get that last part too clearly… My---Um… My agent was using some sort of magically improved walkie-talkie".

This time, Severus couldn't stifle the grin that formed on his lips.

"When will you ever learn, Albus", he said.

"Muggles have developed most interesting artifacts, Severus", Albus said defensively. "But that is not the point, what matters now is we must get to her before she is harmed".

Severus found himself agreeing.

"And what do you suggest?"

"Well, I was thinking… If you would mind…?"

"Oh, I should have known", Severus groaned. "Why me?"

"I did not think you would consider it such a burden, old friend", Albus said, going serious. "I merely thought that your previous… _involvement_ with her would make you the right wizard for the job. Apparently I was mistaken".

"Meaning no disrespect, I am afraid you were", Severus replied. "And I would hardly call it an 'involvement'."

"Oh, wouldn't you?", Dumbledore said with that merry twinkle of his eyes Severus had learned to fear. " I am sure you know better. So I guess that is a 'no', then, Severus? Oh, well… I will have to hask Lupin… Or even Tonks… Or perhaps the Weasley twins would be delighted to be assigned their first task…", he mused to himself.

"Wait", said Severus, suddenly worried about entrusting Fiddler's safety to those goons of mischief. "I did not say I would not do it".

"Now, that's more like it, my boy", Dumbledore stated genially, a full smile glowing on his wrinkled face. "Lemon drop?"

~§~§~§~

  This was the waiting room of Hell, Severus was sure of it. He must have taken a wrong turn whilst trying to Apparate at the hospital Fiddler worked on, for he had landed in the middle of a large room full of shrieking people that seemed to be under _cruciatus_ curse. 

A running male on a surgery scrub bumped into Severus and nearly stabbed him with what it seemed an oversized spoon.

"Sorry", he said, without glancing back, hurrying towards a detour in the hall.

"OOOSWALD!", Severus heard an all too familiar voice. "WHERE THE _HELL_ ARE THOSE KIELLANDS?"

"I'm… coming… doctor… Greene!", Oswald panted, and Severus followed him to find himself in Hell, no doubt about it. A Muggle woman was no less than _giving birth_ in the middle of the room, for all passersby to see. Fiddler was there, of course, wearing a shockinly orange scrub, and kneeling between the woman's thighs.

"Here they are, doctor Greene", Oswald said, handing her the gigantic spoons. Severus watched her gaze fall on him and pitied the poor bloke.

"Oswald".

"Yes, doctor Greene?"

"Did you take the Kiellands _out_ of the dressings?"

"Yes, doctor Greene. You see, I thought I'd save you some ti—"

"You ASS". She cut in,very low, but dangerous all the same. "I shall talk to you later. Where's the anesthesiologist?"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGHH!!", the delivering woman gave an ear-splitting screech.

"Ma'am, kindly restrain yourself from yelling, because that helps neither us nor the baby", Fiddler said.

"But it HURTS!"

"I am aware of that".

"How should you? I. Don't. See. You. Giving", screech, "BIIIIIIIRTH!"

"Ma'am, don't you yell again", Fiddler admonished sternly. "You're taking the oxygen supply from your baby _and _wasting energy. You're nearly there. If you'd follow my instructions, we'll go through it quite easily".

"I want drugs, do you hear me? DRUGS!", the woman squeezed her thighs together mindless to the fact that Fiddler was between them.

"Don't do that again", she said. "You'll smash my head and your baby's", she then addressed to a blonde and scared female to her right. "For crying out loud, Betsy, get Jürgen's ass down here _now"._

The blonde named Betsy nodded and left for the stairs. In the meantime, Fiddler resumed her examinations and shook her head.

"Ma'am, I am going to have to use forceps to deliver your baby, and this isn't the most adequate location to do it, so it might be a little uncomfortable".

"Why? What's wrong?"

"He's faced the wrong way", Fiddler said, "and he can't come out like that. So I am going to scoop him out".

_"Scoop_ him out? He's not bloody ice cream, you BITCH!"

"There's no need to get lewd, is there?"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGHHHHH!"

"God in heaven…", Severus heard her mutter, "God dammit, Jürgens, where the hell are you?!"

But apparently the Jürgens fellow was nowhere to be found, for Fiddler was forced to use the enormous spoons without the benefit of Jürgens' skills, and with a final gush of obscenities and and thunderous "I HATE YOU!", the baby was finally delivered, and given to a girl, who, as Severus learned, was a pediatric nurse. Fiddler stayed with the new mother for a while, apparently repairing damaged tissue, and Severus watched all the process once he avoided being shooed away along with the rest of the nosies.

Finally, the woman was also taken away on a strecher, and Fiddler took out her blood covered gloves and put them in the bin. 

"Now, Oswald", she said, as he was sneaking away. "Just so you know, you are _not _supposed to take things out of their _sterile_ dressings. Not if you're not propperly gloved, _or_ if you plan to carry them around half the hospital. Understood?"

"Yes, doctor Greene… I am sorry".

"You better be, because had we been at the DR, I would have had your guts for lunch. This was a contaminated delivery, so just this once, I'll let it pass".

"Thank you, doctor Greene", Oswald said, and quickly banished through the door.

  Fiddler stretched thoroughly in a way that made Severus think of a cat, and then she noticed his presence for the first time.

"Hi there", she said, with her best doctory smile. "May I help you?".

"In fact, you may", Severus replied, taking a step forward. "I was sent for you".

""What?" she had taken her surgical cap off her head and that smooth waterfall of dark hair he remembered so well suddenly tumbled all the way down to her waist.

"Oh, drat the rubberband", she swore, picking it up from the floor.

Now that he had her face to face, he took his time to examine her, in the subtle way that was his brand, noticing that she was small in height and that her build was not plain out stout, but neither was she one of those unhealthy undernourished noodles everyone seemed to find so attractive. She gave an impression of strength, right from the somewhat wide shoulders to her trainers-clad feet.

She had greenish-blue eyes behind green-rimmed spectacles, and very pale skin, that made such a contrast with the cheery orange of her scrub and her dark hair, undoubtely her best feature.  

"Um, sir? You still there?"

"Yes, of course I am", he snapped. "As I was saying, my name is Severus Snape and I was sent to summon you".

"Well, hi, Mr. Severus Snape. I am doctor Fiddler Greene and, where, if may I ask, am I to be summoned to?"

"To Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry".

Her face frowned in a rather funny way and she said:

"Is this a joke? Because I really don't have the time. I--"

"I assure you, doctor Greene, I am not the jester kind".

"No, well, you surely don't look it", she agreed, eyeing him thoughtfully. "So, a school of Witchcraft, is it? _And_ Wizardry. _Very _interesting. Well, perhaps my workmates' allegations finally became true. Ha, ha, ha, very funny. You can tell whoever sent you that..."

"Doctor Greene", Severus cut in. "This isn't really the time or the place to discuss such matters. Will you care to accompany me so I can enlighten you?"

"You know, I don't usually _accompany_ strangers", she said. Merlin, was she sarcastic.

"I have properly introduced myself. My name is Severus Snape and I am a Potions Master at Hogwarts".

"A Potions Master? Oh, really now! Who do you think I am? I… Hang on… You're not in the same mob as that other nutter, are you?" 

"What other nutter?", Severus asked, curious against his better judgement.

"Well, a blonde bloke dressed in a lonk cloak", Fiddler clarified. "He came here the other day claiming his master had sent him for me. He went a little berserk and I had to give him a shot".

"WHAT?!" Severus exclaimed, all demeanor aside. Had she done what he think she'd done?

"Well, don't get so surprised… He was nearly seizing in here… But nothing a little Haldol couldn't take care of", she grinned in a rather evilish way and Severus took an instinctive step backward. "So, do you know him?"

"I… Yes, one could say so."

"And what kind of cult is yours?"

"It's no cult, Doctor Greene", Severus replied stiffly. "We're both wizards. And just so you know it, _so are you"._

~§~§~

"You are very lucky to be alive", was the first thing Severus said when they reached the Hospital's parking lot. Fiddler had lead the way in stunned silence, after his rather dramatic declaration, which had been his target all along.

She stopped next to a really battered van and tossed her backpack into the trunk. Next, she opened the passengers door for him and made a gesture for him to get in. He stared at her in regal silence.  

"What?" she asked. "Have you never ridden in a car before?"

"I am afraid I haven't", he replied tersely.

"Oh well. It's not that hard. You see, you simply climb up and sit there", she pointed at the seat, "and then fasten your seatbelt. And I'll do the driving".

Severus nodded curtly and did as he was told. She soon joined him inside the van, and turned on the engine. They left the parking lot, and Severus found himself shamefuly clutching the sides of his seat as if afraid he'd go out through the windshield.

"I told you to fasten your seatbelt", she said when she noticed it, and then, as she saw his puzzled expression, she added: "that black thing behind you would be it".

Severus struggled with the blasted thing for quite a while, but damned be him if he was going to ask _her_ for help. He finally managed to fasten it, and just in time, because the road had cleared before them and _now_ she was speeding.

"As I said", he begun with all the dignity he could muster, as the van ate miles at a nauseating speed. "You're very lucky to be alive, but if you keep this up you might not be much longer".

"Oh, loosen up", she replied lightly. "This is hardly anything. You should see me with the Jag".

Severus didn't know what a Jag was or what she did with it, but he didn't care to ask. 

"So why am I so lucky?", she asked instead. "Mind, I don't mean to be nosy, but it's the second time you've said it, so it's obvious you want me to ask why".

Severus gaped at her, concealing his surprise by long practice.

"The man you mentioned is a wizard", he said, with his usual scathing tones. "A Dark Wizard. His name is Lucius Malfoy".

"Oh", she said. "Nice meeting him, too".

Severus looked at her contemptuously, a little annoyed by her sarcasm. He wasn't used to be the target of it. But then he realised Lucius' name meant nothing to her, so he settled down a bit and replied:

"I am still amazed at the fact that you managed to… what is it… give him a shot?"

"Yeah. And why is that? I've had worst patients than him, _believe me."_

Remembering the delivering woman, Severus was tempted to agree with her.

"That is not the point, Doctor Greene", he said instead. "The point is that man witholds dark powers and he's the goon to an even darker master. He must have had strict orders not to harm you, for you to get away with that soporific shot".

"I am sure he had", Fiddler replied with an arched brow. "So now, would _this_ be the adequate place to discuss matters?"

There she was again, giving him more of his own chocolate, and he wasn't liking it one bit. He was in the habit of frightening people by the mere sight of him, and here she was, this half-breed witch dressed in outrageous orange, driving that van like Potter surely rode his Quidditch broom, and not in the least intimidated by his presence. The world was sure to fall off.

He waited for a while, as if he'd actually expect that to happen, and then complied. He told her in a very matter-of-factly way all that Dumbledore had told him, explaining that Lucius Malfoy was but one of those rather interesting characters that had became suddenly focused in her existence. He conveniently left aside the fact that he had dreamt of her for over a month, and then waited for her reaction. She mused to herself for a long time, without taking her eyes of the road. Severus noticed they had reached an isolated road that swirled up a cliff, and it looked oddly familiar.

His heart skipped a beat. _Of course. The House on the Cliff._

"It has belonged to my family for centuries", she clarified, apparently unaware to the fact that she had just read his thoughts. "Well, that would definitely explain many things", she continued, and Severus remembered he had been waiting for her response to what he had told her. 

"So let me see if I got it straight", she continued. "From what you've told me I gather there _is_ indeed a wizard community in England; in fact, even a school of magic. _And _you teach there. Apparently, the Headmaster of said school has sent you to… collect me, is it? No, summon me, for I am what you call a Half-Breed? Half a Banshee and half a witch? Good so far?"

Severus only nodded.

"Good. Well then. There's a war going on, isn't it? As usual, a great wizard went nuts and turned to the dark side and now he wants to get over the world. And of course, the good blokes are here to save the day, lead by… what was his name again? Albus Dumbledore? Nice name, by the way. But then here comes the interesting part! Said evil wizard couldn't manage to kill a little boy eighteen years ago and he's done everything within his malevolent wits to do so since, not succeeding. And now, I don't know how or why, he suddenly noticed _I existed_ on the other side of the pond, and _now_ he wants _me_ because apparently, I am linked to the mentioned surviving boy the bad bloke wants to kill so badly".

Severus straightened his back and turned to look at her. No offended cries, no fit of hysterics, not even those girlish giggles that got in his nerves. Just a derisive account of what he had just declared. And that first declaration…. _Well, definitely that would explain many things._

"You have stated the blunt facts, I grant you. But there's more to it than what you so mockingly proclaim… doctor Greene.".

"Oh, I didn't mean to offend you, Mr. Snape, and please drop the doctor Greene thing. I only make the nurses call me that."

"Why is that?"

"They tend to override authority, if one gives them the chance. They… are easily annoyed by the fact that someone half their age is entitled to boss them around. I would be that someone, by the way", she smiled. "So, forgive me if you found me insolent, but wouldn't have you reacted the same way?"

"It's not my reaction that matters", he replied severely.

She bowed her head mockinly.

_"_Oh, the man is cautious_",_ she said. "Oh, well, it was worth the try. It usually works. Anyway, you might find it odd after what I said, but I do believe you. It's just that I usually take refuge in irony… I am sure you know what I mean". She looked at him intently and he had to fight really hard the urge to look away. 

They stared at each other for so long Severus suddenly thought they were going to hit something, for the road apparently was the last thing on Fiddler's mind. She might have picked up on the thought for she cleared her throat awkwardly and turned her head away.

"Yes, I believe you, Professor Snape. I am sure this is not of your interest but… my parents recently passed away. They didn't told me things in so many words, but they made it perfectly clear that I wasn't their daughter and that they had taken me in when my father… my real father, I mean, died. Apparently they decided to keep me hidden… for my own sake. Now I know why they did it".

"When did they die?", asked Severus, although he was sure he knew the answer.

"A month ago".

Of course. A month ago, when he had started to dream of her. Their protection must have been strong. She remained silent for a bit and then, with a sigh, she smoothed a strand of hair away from her face and asked:

"Do you mind if I put on some music?" 

"Not at all".

"Good. Although I am sure you're not familiar with Muggle music, are you?" she smiled, and he nodded, surprised at the easiness with what the word had fell from her lips. Almost as she'd lived with this recently acquired knowledge all her life.

"Well, I hope you won't mind then. In fact, I don't think there'll be a problem. This particular group is not what you would call popular, not even among non-magic folks".

She extended her right hand to grab a leather case from where she extracted a silvery flat disc. Not relinquishing the wheel at anytime, she managed to insert the disc in a device jam-packed of buttons and other switches, and after pressing some of them, he heard the swift notes of a piano and what appeared to be violins, that smoothly accompanied a woman's voice:

_Ever felt away with me  
Just once that all I need  
Entwined in finding you one day  
  
Ever felt away without me  
My love, it lies so deep  
Ever dream of me?_

He turned to look at her with undisguised disbelief this time. The music had changed, it had became a little noisier with the addition of drums and some other instruments Severus couldn't identify, but that sounded strangely metallic. 

She smiled at the look in his face and said:

"You'll understand, of course, I had to ask".

And with that she turned up the volume and raced up the tortuous path that lead to the House on the Cliff.

  
  
**A/N.**

TBC, please R & R!!!!!

Thanx a lot to my kind beta Ian for his BRILLIANT thoughts!!!

Disclaimer: All characters and HP universe belong to J.K. Rowling, except for the ones you don't recognize. The plot as well is mine and solely mine!! No profit is being made!!!!


	4. Dismal Are The Mirrors of a Wolf

**Chapter 4.**

Dismal are the mirrors of a wolf 

Fiddler soon found out that she liked it at Hogwarts.

  Severus had Apparated them both there as soon as she scarcely packed a small case; she had replied nothing when he commented somewhat scornfully that she didn't seem to think she would be staying too long at Hogwarts.

"Mark my words", he had said. "Once you get in our world, you get there to stay". And she had the feeling that there was more to it.

He had regarded her wonderingly and then turned on his heels in a flourish of  his  long black coat and left the room. She stared to the door after his grand departure, and then raised her shoulders. Well, so the song had unnerved him. Too bad. As Fiddler had said herself, she had to ask.

  The last think she did  before leaving was a quick phone call to her Chief Resident to let him know that a sudden and rather unexpected necessity to travel to England had arisen, and that she didn't quite know how long would she be gone. 

He accepted her sudden departure with surprising benevolence and bid her farewell and the best of luck. She was still staring at the receiver with utter bewilderment when Severus entered the room to ask if she was ready.

"Yeah…", Fiddler said absently, putting the receiver back on place. "I just… Well… He didn't even question me or anything… And I've had him berating at me for much less than this…"

"Maybe you're beginning to control your magic", he replied in his best professorial tone, that would have had his students cowering behind their cauldrons; but she just said:

"Yeah, I guess so", and he had no choice but to hold out his rather large hand to her, so he could Apparate them both to Hogsmeade.  

_Now, that's a good way of travelling,_ Fiddler had thought when they reappeared in what it seemed like a living bucolic postcard, full with old fashioned buildings, beautiful gardens and people displaying the most astounding collection of garments Fiddler had ever seen. She looked at Severus, noticing for the first time that, although he wasn't dressed as the rest of the wizards on the streets, his clothes weren't precisely normal, either. It was definitely the sort of attire that someone who didn't have the slighest idea of what did decent people wear would have chosen, she decided.

They walked alon in silence until they reached the gates of a castle that seemed at least one thousand years old, and then Fiddler found herself climbing up a rather inclined path; puffing slightly, she wondered out loud why couldn't they just Apparate inside the drat castle.

"Because it's warded", was the laconic answer.

They were greeted at the very entrance by a wizard in dazzling robes that looked like Fiddler's idea of Merlin, and a stern-looking witch who turned out to be Fiddler's aunt.

"Minerva McGonagall, dear", she said, offering Fiddler a small hand, not unlike her own. She seemed really surprised at the sight of Fiddler. "Well, I must say you certainly do not look like Wally".

"No, Minerva", the older wizard said. "She's the living image of her mother… Without the green face, of course".

That made made everyone laugh except for Severus. He remained stubbornly tense, with his shoulders squared and his legs slightly flexed, as if he was expecting someone to drop from the ceiling and attack them. Fiddler didn't give him a second thought, though, and smiled back at the old wizard. She felt she really liked him and assumed he was Albus Dumbledore.

"That would be correct, my girl", he replied, his eyes twinkling. "And now, I believe it is time to get you settled".

She nodded and followed them through the stone halls to her new quarters.

"I have given you accomodation in Gryffindor Tower", Albus informed her merrily, and at her puzzled expression, he proceeded to explain the Four Houses and how were the students Sorted into them. "I do not think there will be need to Sort you", he added, "for you will not be part of the student body; but if you are curious, I will have you know you come from a long line of outstanding Gryffindors… Minerva here, your own father… In fact, all McGonagalls have been Gryffindors, I believe".

Fiddler heard a disdainful snort to her right and turned swiftly to look at Severus. He held her gaze contemptuously and arched an eyebrow. Fiddler eyed him from above her shoulder and turned to look back at Dumbledore. Somehow, she knew she had fallen of Severus' grace, if she had ever been there in the first place. She reminded herself she'd have to learn more about the Houses and the reason why should Severus despise Gryffindors.

"So is Gryffindor for the bravest, Ravenclaw for the smartest, Slytherin for the cunniest and Hufflepuff for… the rest?", she asked. "Well, I think I have a pretty good idea of which House I would be on", she smiled when Dumbledore stopped to look at her, for his expression told her very clearly he knew what she was thinking. 

It was a song, actually, and it had nothing to do with the Houses, not at first sight, at least.

Dumbledore said nothing as he clapped his palms together and a door opened on its own.

Fiddler walked in, mumbling a fragment of that very song to herself in a very low voice.

Day posesses no key here,  
where moon sheds the cold twilight;  
This moment is eternity.

Land of raven and bear,  
Land of eagle and wolverine,  
Dismal are the mirrors of a wolf.  
  


Inside was a stone chamber with ancient furniture, and a four poster bed with blue hangings and matching quilt placed on a corner near a window. A merry fire cracked in the hearth and there was a gray dog napping on a velvety blue sofa. 

Her eyes wandered back to that last image, drawn from the contemplation of the primrose desk and the bookshelves swarming with books. A _dog?_

"Yes, well", Dumbledore said behind her. "I believe he comes with the rooms. We haven't been able to remove him".

"Oh, that's quite all right!", Fiddler said happily. "Here, boy! Come here!"

Again that scathing grunt, barely audible, but this time Fiddler didn't mind it, because the dog had marched directly towards her and now was demanding her attention. He was rather sturdy and heavy, with pointed hears and a long snout, and round blue eyes that shone among his thick bush of gray fur. He looked like a small and plumpy wolf.

Fiddler lifted him from the stone floor and straightened her back to look at Dumbledore.

"Thank you, Albus. It's been so nice of you to um… take me in. You know, I am still having trouble reconciling with this… um… _reality",_ she confessed. "And of course, the idea of being half a Banshee is a shocking one. Not that it came as a big surprise… Many Muggles have called me that more that once. It's the hair, I think".

"Not just the hair, my girl", Albus replied, and something in his tone made Fiddler unease.

"Do you by any chance know my Mother's name?", she asked.

Fiddler had always been an observer. She enjoyed the way feelings and thoughts found their ways to their owner's faces, and she also loved to tell them apart. Minerva, for instance, looked very interested in knowing the answer, which Fiddler thought was odd, but then again, there was no guarantee that Wallace McGonagall had introduced his Banshee wife to his Gryffindor family; better yet, there was no indication at all that her parents had been actually married. Severus looked as if he couldn't care less about the matter, but the expression on Albus' face was a work of art. Eyes twinkling, face glowing as if he was immensely proud of Fiddler, he smiled widely and took alternative gazes at both her and Severus.

"You know that Banshees usually don't have a given name like the rest of us", Albus said, softly. "They're usually known for either one of her features or the sound of her wailing. In fact, your name is a living proof of that".

"Oh, that's right!", Fiddler said, blushing slightly. "Mother… well you know… my adoptive mother said that I didn't so much as cry when I was a baby. I actually _screeched. _Mother told me once it made her think of a violin. Hence… _Fiddler"._

"So you know what I am talking about. Now, your real mother had two nominations as I recall… One of them was Lykaios, which means--"

"Wolf-like", Fiddler said. "It's a Greek word. She wailed… like a wolf?"

"I am afraid she did, Fiddler. Must have been wonderful to hear, unless she was wailing directly at you", they both chuckled unwillingly. "And the other", he continued, "was Belinda".

He said that in a rather theatrical way, and Fiddler was startled to see Minerva hold in her breath and look at the Headmaster in polite disbelief; Severus, on the other side, was staring at her with ten times his usual sneer, as if he couldn't believe his ears. Albus chuckled, and translated:

"It means 'Beautiful Snake', Fiddler. And as I said, you're her living image. Wouldn't you agree, Severus?"

But he had shifted and was already half way down the hall, long cloak flapping dramatically as he strode.

~§~§~§~

Fiddler had met Harry Potter, of course, along with his best friends, and she had developed a good friendship with them, almost to the point of becoming sort of a big sister to them. They were eager for her to learn all the joys of magic, and they started by instructing her on broom-riding, but they soon gave up on her declaring she was worst than Neville; and after crashing on a tree for the millionth time in a row, she found herself agreeing with them.

They also insisted on her to go with them on Hogsmeade weekends, and they dragged her to Zonko's and Honeydukes, where she acquired enough chocolate frogs to last her a life time.

"Blimey", Ron had said, "I think you even outdid me!"

With Dumbledore's permission, they even got to go to Diagon Alley by themselves, where Fiddler learned she had her very own account at Gringotts Bank, and that her real father had been a really wealthy man indeed. Ginny and Hermione had accompanied Fiddler to Madam Malkin's to shop for witch robes whilst the boys browsed through Quality Quidditch Supplies for the last innovations of their favorite sport. They had visited the Weasley twins, who seemed delighted to meet Fiddler and gifted them with their latest and most certainly dangerous inventions, as Hermione whispered conspirationally to Fiddler. As they passed Ollivander's, Ron suggested Fiddler should get a wand as well.

"Yeah, I mean, think of it", he said when the others looked at him questioningly. "She's a witch after all, isn't she? She can't just go about without a wand".

"Oh, I don't know, Ron", Hermione replied. "I am not sure if that's a good idea. If Dumbledore had wanted her to have a wand, he would have told her to get one".

And although Fiddler thought Hermione had a point there, no one else listened to her, so they walked inside, but Fiddler tried each and every wand Mr. Ollivander gave her to no results at all. Ollivander was miffed and the kids were growing apprehensive, so Fiddler put the very last wand on the shop back in its box and sighed:

"Oh, well, apparently I am not made for wands".

"Or maybe there are no wands made for you", Hermione muttered, looking at her with fearsome respect.

"The wand choses the Wizard…" echoed Harry thoughtfully and they all left the shop in silence.

    That episode aside, life was just fine at Hogwarts. Fiddler didn't attend regular classes, and she instead spent most of her time at the Hospital Wing under Madam Pomfrey's cheerful tutelage. She had even learned a few spells that didn't require a wand to cast, and she was becoming quite an expert in medicinal herbs and beverages; in exchange, she had instructed Madam Pomfrey on the basics of Muggle Healing, which the older witch found as remarkable as fascinating.

She also spent a lot of time with Dumbledore. He was teaching her to interpret the images that formed in her head every once in a while, and to focus the faint halo of her magic into something more precise and will powered. She hadn't mentioned the wand incident, and nor had he, although Fiddler was sure he knew about it. She had soon learned that Dumbledore knew everything that went on around there. 

  But not once since her arrival had Fiddler seen Severus Snape again. The kids had told her all about him and his nasty personality and his bullying teaching methods, giving her a full account of all of Neville's potions' catastrophes. They had informed her he was the Head of Slytherin and that he always favored his own House, no matter how idiotic his students were, and that he always was in search of the most feeble excuses to deduct points from Gryffindor, his favorite past-time.

"He once docked points from Hermione for answering correctly to a question", said Ron, enraged. "That greasy git is just unbearable! Vicious, mean, nasty…"

"Funny", Fiddler said softly. "He didn't seem so when we met".

"Of course not!" Ron replied. "That old bat knows where and when to bend his knees! How do you think he's survived this long?"

It was then when Fiddler learned that Severus had been a Death Eater, working now along with what Harry referred reverently as the Order of the Phoenix, and that they all asumed that he was spying on Voldemort for Dumbledore's behalf.

"But he hasn't changed one bit", Hermione said, and she sounded disappointed. "I thought he would, you know, but old tigers don't lose their stripes".

"That's very true", Ginny said.

Well that was appalling, Fiddler thought, glancing at the lake from her spot in the lawn. Ginny, Ron and Harry had finished Quidditch practice and they all had packed a picnic and headed for a peaceful, isolated clear near the Forbidden Forest.

"So what's he upto now?" Fiddler asked.

"Well, no one knows for sure", Harry said. "Fred and George try to eavesdrop every once in a while with their Extendable Ears, but they never manage to find out anything. Mrs. Weasley won't let them in the meetings since those Wildfire Whiz-Bangs of them nearly gave Moody a stroke".

They all laughed at the memory (except for Fiddler), and then Ron added:

"But on the bright side, _we'll_ be joining the Order as soon as we graduate, so we will definitely find out _then"._

"Oh, I think he will object to me being present", Harry said ruefully.

"Why?", asked Fiddler a little confused. "I thought that you're being specially armed for the final battle".

"So I am", Harry said. "But he hates me all the same".

"Ever wondered why?"

"More than once, believe me!", Ginny informed, shrugging. "Sometimes it seems we speak of nothing _but _it".

Harry rolled his eyes with a suffering expression, and Ginny kissed his cheek in silent apology.

"Harry's father used to hex Professor Snape for the fun of it", Hermione clarified, because by then everybody knew what Harry had seen on the Pensieve during his failed Occlumency lessons. "So apparently Professor Snape seems to believe somehow Harry should pay for it".

"He was such a disgusting slimeball", Ron said fervently. "He had it coming, I am sure. Didn't he, Harry? HARRY?"

"Yeah…", Harry replied absently. "He had it coming".

And Fiddler suddenly got a mental image of two twin snakes biting each other's tails, one of bright green color and glowing with anger, and the other one knotted with fuming hues of crimson, full of pity and stubbornly denied comprehension… 

Then the image exploded in a murderous ray of green light and banished.

"You don't really think he had it coming, do you?", they all gaped at her, bewildered, and Fiddler continued. "Oh, you pity him for the taunted boy he was, but you can't forgive him for a death you feel he ought to respond for, yet deep in you, you know it wasn't of his making. But it's always easier to hate and deny than to understand, and he hasn't made it any easier… has he?"

No one said a word for quite a while. Finally, Ron whispered: "Blimey, you should replace Trelawney!", almost at the same time as Harry asked somewhat hoarsely how the _hell_ had she guessed all that.

"I don't really know", she answered honestly. "Ever since I can remember I've been able to… um… shall we say so, to extract images from other people's minds when a particularly strong emotion is involved; and this ability has increased since I got here, mostly because Albus has been helping me out".

"That is most interesting indeed", said a cold, drawling voice behind them, making them jump. "I should have known, Potter, that you couldn't keep your mouth closed for the life of you".

It was Snape, standing martially with his arms crossed over his chest, glancing below at them with such scorn that even Fiddler felt uncomfortable. The wind was making his long cloak fly around him and bringing his rather lank hair to his face, but it didn't diminish his imposing dignity in the least. On the contrary, it almost seemed like he'd conjured the wind to add dramatism to his words.

No one dared to speak. Snape's dark eyes darted from the castle to the five wizards sitting on the grass, and added in his very low, sneering trademark voice:

"You are off boundaries. I believe that will cost you ten points each. Including your…_new friend"._

"You can't dock points off her", Harry said peevishly. "She hasn't got a House!"

"I believe I had told you more than thrice to call me 'sir', Potter", was Snape's reply. "I will have ten more points for that. And as for our guest here, well, I am sure Gryffindors will not mind the loss of points in exchange of the honor of having her as a Resident in your Tower".

And with that he was gone, his cloak fluttering at his back like batwings.

"Stupid git", Ron said, when he was sure the dark man wouldn't hear him.

"Well, he finally got even with the song thing", Fiddler mumbled thoughtfully.

"What?"

"Um… nothing… just a song that seemed to unease him when we met. Somehow I knew he'd get even, because he doesn't look like the sort of man that enjoys that kind of exposure".

"Well, if he only could dock ten points off you he's losing his touch", said Harry cheerfully.

They all laughed at that, even Fiddler, because it was really a petty vengeance. 

"Don't be thick, Harry, can't you tell he's afraid of her?", Hermione asked as if she couldn't believe it.

"What?!?"

"Didn't you notice that he didn't so much as look at her? That he didn't even once address to her directly?"

The kids and Fiddler all turned to look at Hermione.

"You know something, I think you're right!", Ginny said, and Hermione beamed with pride.

"Wicked!", Ron exclaimed. "Now we have a way to get him off our backs when he acts like an arse!!! _'Boo, Fiddler'!"_

And laughing their guts out at the silly joke, they made their way back to the castle.

~§~

On his way to his dungeons, Snape ran into the giant hourglasses that recorded House points, and stopped to stare at them, hoping to see the one belonging to Gryffindor somewhat diminished. And yes, he counted maliciously, fifty rubies less. But he'd docked sixty points alltogether if he counted the twenty he'd had from Potter and ten from… _Fiddler._ But only fifty were gone, and as a sneaking suspicion grew in the back of his mind, his ferocious gaze focused on Hufflepuff's, and as it seemed intact, his eyes flicked then to Slytherin and Ravenclaw Hourglasses.

 And realised they both had been docked ten points.

**A/N.**

TBC, Please R&R!!!

Once again, thanx a million to my beta reader Ian!!!

Disclaimer: All characters and HP universe belong to J.K. Rowling, except for the ones you don't recognize. The plot as well is mine and solely mine!! No profit is being made!!!!


	5. Something Wicked this Way Comes

**Chapter 5.**

**Something Wicked this Way Comes**

_"By the pricking of my thumbs,something wicked this way comes"._

These words echoed ominously in Severus' mind as he surveyed the Hourglasses. _Of course, a Muggle play. _How_ fitting._ He felt his skin creep and he squared his shoulders. He could hear laughter coming his way, and he turned his head just in time to see _them_ approaching, Fiddler among them.

Something wicked… 

They stopped dead when they noticed his sulking presence, and drawing himself upto his full height, he shot them a venomous glance and turned around on his heels, rather dramatically, and strode furiously towards the Headmaster's office. Still, he was still able to hear _her_ ask:

"What is wrong with him?"

And Potter's contemptuous answer:

"He's an arse, Fidd. Ignore him".

Oh, he was going to pay for that one, but later. He paused his feline stride when he reached the gargoyle, and opened his mouth to snarl the password.

"Treacle past---"

But the gargoyle swung aside of its own volition and Snape sighed.

"He does that everytime", he murmured to himself as he entered Dumbledore's office.

_"Who_ is she, Albus?", he asked with no preamble. "Just _who the HELL_ did you tuck into this castle?" 

"Oh, Severus! How lovely of you to drop by! Would you like some tea?" Albus was gazing at his twelve hands' clock as if he was expecting Severus and was pleased with his punctuality. He beamed at the Potions Master and put the clock aside. Fawkes chimed from his perch, and Severus felt himself blush. _So much for manners_, his chant seemed to say.

"I--- No, Albus, I would not like some tea, thank you the same. I _would_ like, however, some answers".

"Always so eager, my boy… But then, you do look unnerved. What is it about her that has you so unsettled?"

Severus had a seat, and run his hands through his dark hair. He sighed gloomily and told Albus what had just happened. A tea tray had appeared out of thin air, and Dumbledore sipped at his cup thoughtfully before he spoke.

"I told you you would feel it, remember, Severus? Before you summoned her?"

"Yes, and I do feel it. But still that doesn't explain the points".

"Oh, the points! One would think they are a matter of life and death!", Dumbledore laughed happily at Severus' scowl and continued. "Very well, then, the points. I gather, there were no points lost from Hufflepuff nor Gryffindor, is that correct?" Severus nodded. "Well, I don't see a reason to worry!"

"What?"

"Well, aparently she does not possess those Gryffindor qualities you so despise!", Albus said cheerfully. "On the contrary, she seems to hold both the brilliance of a Ravenclaw _and_ the archness of a Slytherin. I would have thought you would be delighted".

Severus' head snapped right up in clear annoyance.

"What was that?"

"Oh, nothing, my boy… Just an old man's babbling, that is all".

Severus eyed him suspiciously. He had learned to mistrust Dumbledore's "old man's babbling". 

"Wondering why I did not Sort her, are you, Severus?", he heard him say.

Severus nodded.

"Well, it would have been the must difficult task to our dear Sorting Hat upto date", Albus sighed. "I am not saying it could not have succeeded… But I guess I did not want to take that risk. She's only half human, Severus, do you not see?"

Finally, the weight of this fact sunk in. 

"Merlin's wand… I---"

It was a rather unusual sight, Severus Snape at a loss of words.

"That is correct, Severus. The Sorting Hat was provided with pieces of the Four Founders' minds, so it could find similarities in the wizarding children. _Human _children, Severus. Only twice in its thousand years of existence was it forced to Sort halfbreeds. You know them both, and you know the House they were both Sorted into. And none of them get even close to the ancient magic a Banshee can conjure".

"Something wicked this way comes…", Severus drawled. 

"Rather callous, I should say, but fitting all the same. Banshees are not benevolent creatures, Severus, and I can only hope that Fiddler's wizarding side along with her rather _unexpected_ upbringing will get the best of her. My hopes are up since she's a doctor and you need some sort of moral strength to pursue that career. But yet…", Dumbledore fell silent and Severus felt there wasn't really anything else to say.

~§~§~§~

"What are you reading, Hermione?", asked Ron that morning during breakfast. "Not another letter from Vicky, is it?"

"Don't call him Vicky", Hermione admonished distractedly without taking her eyes from the paper she was perusing. "And _if_ you _have_ to know, no, it's not a letter from him".

"What is it then?"

"_The Daily Prophet, _of course".

"Anything good these days?", Harry inquired between mouthfuls of ham and eggs.

"Um... not really. Let's see... Two blokes got into a fight at Hog's End… Wow, they hexed each other pretty badly! Look at it!", and she showed them the moving pictures that showed what it seemed to be the victims of a rather vicious bubotuber. They all winced in disgust and she kept reading out loud: "Well, wouldn't you know, Percy's travelling to Greece in a 'Diplomatic Mission for the Minister of Magic'…"

"Wonder if he'll be able to deflate his head enough to Apparate this time", Ginny said mockingly.

"We can always give him a hand", Ron grimaced. Percy, his older brother, had come around after that pompous Fudge had finally admitted the return of Voldemort but he still was the same insufferable twit he had always been. 

"Fudge sacked yet another Unspeakable!", Hermione exclaimed then and all thoughts of Percy fled from their minds.

"Is he in the Order?", asked Harry right away.

"Uh, let's see…  Owen Donovan. Does it ring a bell?"

"No, not really… But then again, I don't think we've actually met all the members of the Order", said Harry pensively.

"We can ask Remus then", Ginny said.

"_Remus?_ Since when do you _call him_ Remus?", asked Ron, outraged.

"Oh, loosen up", Fiddler intervened. "_I've_ called him Remus as well since I met him".

"Yes, but you're 26!"

"What does age have to do with anything?" Ginny asked, bemused.

"Mates, mates, shut up, we're drawing too much attention to ourselves!", Hermione hissed.

And she was right. More than one of their Gryffindor fellows was shooting them inquiring glances, and Snape's expression was priceless, as if he'd eavesdropped every word they had just said.

"Oh. Right", said Ron. 

"Are you finished yet?", asked Harry. "Because we need to discuss this".

"Oh, and _that_ won't look suspicious", said Fiddler with much than just a hint of irony. "All five of us getting up at the sime time clutching _The Daily Prophet._ Come on, kids, think a bit. Finish your breakfast calmly and discuss this as civilized humans".

"Yes, Mum", said Ron grumpily, but with a contradictory smile on his face.

"Yeah, sorry about that", Harry said.

"All right. Now you can tell me why is that sacked Unspeakable so important". 

"They work in the Department of Mysteries", said Hermione in a barely audible whisper. "And that's where they used to keep Trelawney's Prophecy about Harry and Voldemort---", Ron winced. "Don't be pathetic, Ron, you're seventeen years old! Anyway, the point is Professor Dumbledore once told Harry they had another room in that department, one they kept locked at all times, and supposedly, therein lays a power which Voldemort--- don't you _dare _to wince, Ronald Weasley! Which Voldemort fears more than anything.

»So ever since Fudge was forced to admit Voldemort was back, he's been sacking Unspeakables out of the lamest excuses, so _our_ theory is that he's being ordered to do so".

"Put under _Imperius _curse, you mean?", asked Fiddler.

"Yeah, we reckon so", said Harry. "You see, after the Death Eaters broke out of Azkaban for the second time, some of them banished and have not been seen since. We reckon that at least one of them got hold of our dear Minister and is now trying to clear the Department of Mysteries for a break-in".

"But what of the Aurors?", asked Fiddler. "Wouldn't they do something?"

"Oh, the Aurors are mud these days in the Ministry", said Ginny dismissively. "Half of them are in the Order and the other half is preparing to join it. Fudge gets such a tantrum whenever he sees one… Percy told me about it".

"Screw Percy", said Ron, angrily, and Ginny blushed, staring at her empty plate.

"We can go now", Hermione observed. "The Hall's clearing out".

The five wizards rose from their sits and left the Hall walking towards nowhere in particular.

"So what d'you reckon happened to Draco's daddy?", Ron asked when they reached the gateway that led to the lake.

"Wouldn't we all like to know", said Harry bitterly.

"Well, at least you don't get to see him wallowing around as if he owned the school", Ginny said sensibly.

"Oh, yeah, that's a relief", Hermione mumbled.

"Who the hell is Draco?", Fiddler asked.

"Oh, of course, you haven't met him _yet"_, Hermione said, so they proceeded to explain her all about Draco.

 They sat at the coastline of the lake, watching the Giant Squid's sporadic budges. 

"He's a right little slimeball", Ron said viciously. "And he used to have all Slytherin House wrapped around his finger. But of course, ever since his father ended up in Askaban he stopped bullying people around, because now daddy and his connections weren't there to save his sorry little arse. But then the Death Eaters broke out and now he shows up whenever he wants to… He seems to believe graduation is meaningless now that everything's been uncovered".

"Yeah, it's not like he was going to do anything with himself anyway", Hermione said. "He only got good marks at Potions because Snape would always favor him. But in the rest…", she shrugged.

"Snape and Lucius Malfoy were fellow Death Eaters", Harry clarified.

"Who?" asked Fiddler, because the name had stirred something in her memory.

"Lucius Malfoy", Harry repeated. "Draco's father".

"I've seen him", said Fiddler suddenly. The other's reaction was immediate and alarming because it reminded her of Severus' retort.

"What? When? HOW?", they all asked in unison.

"Hey, hey, hey! Calm down for a bit! Yeah, I've seen him, he went to the hospital I used to work at and said his master had sent him to claim me. He didn't seem in his right mind, you see… he started babbling and spitting all over the place… Shaking all around as if having a seizure… We've had a few of those… Usually on abstinence syndrome, so I gave him a shot and put him to sleep".

"You _what?"_, Harry howled.

Fiddler couldn't help to laugh then.

"What would you say, Harry, if I told you that you reacted _just the same way_ as your dear Professor Snape?"

"I would cut my tongue on the spot, so please don't say it", Harry replied mortified.

"All right. I won't. Anyway, the point is I asked two nurses to help the bloke to a bed and then I forgot about him. I work in the ER so it's easy enough to forget about a long haired blonde nutter. But when we did the night visit… The bloke was gone. And the funniest part is, although many people saw him come in, no one saw him get out".

"He Disapparated", Hermione said apparently to herself.

"Yeah, well, I know that _now"_, Fiddler replied.

"This is important, Fiddler", Harry said. "Have you told Dumbledore?"

"No… but then again, I am pretty sure he knows. And I did tell Severus".

"_Severus?"_, wailed Ron. "You call _him Severus?"_

"For crying out loud, kid, what's with you and first names?", Fiddler asked, "yeah, I call him Severus when I see him, which, as you surely noticed already, is not too often!"

"Oh… right. Sorry. It's just that..."

"You hate him, I know".

"Forget Snape", Ginny said. "We really need to talk to someone in the Order now".

"How long has been since you saw Lucius?", Ron asked.

"Um… it was like four days before _Severus_ came along", Fiddler said, stressing the Potions Master given name, much to Ron's dismay.

"So he was around Muggle Ireland…", Harry mused. "I wonder if he's still there".

"Well, he hasn't been spotted, that's for sure, or this pile of garbage would have published the lurid news already", Hermione observed, shaking the _Daily Profet _still in her hand. 

"Yeah…", Ron pillowed his chin on his fist hand and stared at the lake pensively. No one talked for a while until Hermione screamed, scaring the wits out of everybody:

"Merlin's _teeth!_ We're _late_ for CLASS!"

So they all got to their feet and rushed back into the castle, leaving Fiddler still on the grass, by the lake, thinking.

**A/N.**

TBC, I _promise!!!_

Please R&R!!!

Once again, thanx a million to my beta reader Ian!!!

Disclaimer: All characters and HP universe belong to J.K. Rowling, except for the ones you don't recognize. The plot as well is mine and solely mine!! No profit is being made!!!!


	6. Wolf of Loneliness in Me

**Chapter 6.**

**The Wolf of Loneliness in Me**

Fiddler's room had quicky became their favorite gathering spot. Crookshanks and Triskelion –as Fiddler had named her wolf-like sturdy dog-,  would ward the entrance, and since they were still in the Gryffindor Tower, not even Snape could have said that they were off boundaries after curfew. It was brilliant.

 It was there they were that night, anxiously waiting for Harry, who had promised he'd bring along the Two-way Mirror Sirius had given in on their fifth year. But the hour was growing late and still there were no signs of him.

"Knowing his luck, he probably got caught by Filch and now he's at Snape's dungeons scrubbing rat brains off the ceiling", said Ron gloomily, helping himself to a Chocolate Frog.

"Oh, Ron", said Hermione reprovingly.

"What? You know it's true. He's got the worst luck ever!"

"But brighten up", Ginny said giving Triskelion a Bertie Botts Every Flavor Bean. "_If_ he is indeed stranded with Snape, we can always send Fiddler here to release him".

The kids all roared with laughter, and the rational part of Fiddler's brain suddenly asked her: _And _why_ exactly are you_ blushing_, Fiddler, my lass?"_

_Oh, shut UP. I am _not_ blushing._

"Why would you send me, if may I ask?", she spoke out loud.

"Well, apparently you're not afraid of _Severus", _Ron said mockingly. "And you seem to stand up for him quite a bit".

"I've never!"

"Oh, no? What of _'let's pity him for he was a taunted boy?'_ What of _'He's not the kind of man that enjoys exposure?"_, Ron brandished his index finger on Fiddler's face in unmistakeable victory: "What of _'I call him Severus when I see him?"_

_Damn the kid!_, she thought. And then she wondered why had she thought that.

"Oh, yeah--- Well--- I---", was all she could stutter.

"You _like_ him!", Ron wailed with Weasley sense of logic.

"Well, I don't _dislike _him", Fiddler said, evenly. "He hasn't been mean to me or anything… Just… wary. But polite". 

_"Polite?"_, Ginny cut in. "What about those points he docked off you?"

"Oh, that was petty vengeance, I thought we'd agreed on that one".

"Yeah, yeah… Keep defending him", fumed Ron, eating yet another Chocolate Frog.

Fiddler was about to retort, but decided she wouldn't dignify Ron's taunting with an answer. She went to her dresser to grab her hairbrush and a rubberband and busied herself on braiding her long strands out of her face. After a moment of silence, Ron spoke again.

"Well, where the _Hell_ is Harry? Do you think he fell off the stairs and died?"

_"RON!"_, exclaimed both Hermione and Ginny.

"Well, you know Trelawney keeps saying he'll die young", replied defensively. "Speaking of which,  you should have _heard her _in class today…"

"Oh, spare me. I _can't_ believe you're _still_ taking Divination", Hermione replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

But Fiddler was interested.

"What did she say?"

"Fiddler, she's a right old fraud, you don't want to---"

But Ron was already making a full account on that day's class, much to Fiddler's amusement because even though she hadn't met Sybill Trelawney personally, she thought of her as a really funny character indeed.

"So, apparently, we're going to be teached how to _Foresee",_ Ron said, somewhat mockingly. "I don't know how many times she has predicted Harry's horrible death since we started the class but if she keeps this up he'll kill himself just to get out of it".

"If it was me, I'd kill her instead", Fiddler said, and the kids didn't dare ask if she was serious. With Fiddler, you never knew.

"Oh, but she talked about you", Ron continued. "Have you met?"

"No, we haven't".

"She'd kill herself allright!", Hermione said contemptously. "Fiddler could take over her job anytime and successfully I might add".

"Oh, come on… I _told_ you I am no Seer".

"Nor is she!"

"Come on, let's be fair here", Ginny said. "She has made two real prophecies…"

They burst into cackles and then Fiddler asked:

"So what did she say about me, anyway?"

"Oh, just her usual babbling… She said an evil force was fogging her Inner Eye and that she could see the dark mane of the Moonwitch approaching… She then said the Fate wouldn't let her know if the Moonwitch was good or evil… But she did mention something about Birth links between the One born in Ostara and the One Born in Lughnassadh… She also said that those born from the Ocean would vanquish darkness".

"Good grief, what do you _smoke_ in that class?", Fiddler laughed and Hermione joined her gladly.

Ron was about to make what he thought was a scathing retort when the door sung open and a slightly breathless invisible someone glided in. Harry tossed aside the Invisibility Cloak and slumped on a chair.

"Harry! What took you so long?"

"Who do you think? Snape was fluttering around here like the big bat he is!"

"Around _here,_ as in around _Fiddler's_ room?" Ginny asked, amazed. Ron pulled up a horrified face and opened his mouth to speak.

"Don't you _dare,_ Ron", Fiddler admonished.

"What?", Harry asked, puzzled.

"Some stupid teenage taunting Ron was doing before you arrived", Fiddler said smugly. "Nothing important. Did you bring the mirror?"

"Yeah", Harry said and produced it from his robes. He held it in front of him and spoke clearly: "Remus Lupin".

The rest of them came to stand at Harry's back, all glancing towards the mirror, until gradually, a blurred image formed in the mirror's surface.

"Er---", Harry said.

Hermione cleared her throat and Ginny burst into incontrolable giggles. Ron was very red in the face and apparently couldn't find a spot to place his eyes upon.

"Hello?" Fiddler said, trying not to laugh as well. "Are we interrupting something?"

The two figures in the mirror disentangled from each other abruptly and the very blushed face of the werewolf peered at them from the mirror.

"No--- No--- Er--- Tonks and I were--- I was merely---"

"She had something in her eye, I know", Fiddler said cheerfully. "Next time give me a call, it could require a _doctor's _expertise", she added, ironically. "Anyway, Harry wants to talk to you. Go on Harry, field's clear".

"Harry!", Lupin exclaimed, instantly worried. "How are you? Is everything allright?"

"Er--- yeah", Harry replied. "Nothing's wrong, technically… We just wanted to tell you something. Do you have time?"

Remus Lupin blushed again and mumbled.

"Yes, I have time".

So Harry told him about their previous musings and the blush slowly disappeared off Lupin's face.

"I'll make sure I mention it in our next meeting", he said finally. "But for now, I don't see what else can we do---"

"When are we going to Grimmauld Place?", Harry asked, and Fiddler sensed the contradictory feelings he had towards that house.

"I don't know, Harry. Dumbledore hasn't said a word about it, but I am sure he'll let you know if something comes up".

"Yeah… I am sure, too".

"So how's our famous guest getting along?", asked Lupin.

"Oh, I am fine, thank you. Fitting in just nice", Fiddler replied.

"Harry told me that Snape gave you a hard time the other day?"

Fiddler gifted both Harry and Lupin with one of her withering looks and said:

"Boy, you _can't _stop talking about him, can you? I am starting to find that a little suspicious…"

"Oh, Professor Lupin, don't you speak mean of Snape in front of her", Ron warned him. "She _liiiiikes_ him!"

"Shut _up_, Ronald Weasley!", Fiddler roared amongst the other's laughter, and then Lupin said:

"Well, I'll make sure to tell him that too when I see him, it might just be what he needs to cheer up a bit".

If Fiddler had thought they were laughing before, that was nothing compared to what they were doing now. Even Hermione was howling with cackles!

And her own furious blush wasn't helping her mood, either.

"Well, as fun as this is, I am afraid I have to go", Lupin said when he got his wind back. "I'm on duty tonight".

"Yeah, duty allright", Fiddler said sullenly. "Go on, keep an eye on Tonks---, I mean, things. We'll interrupt you no further"

And with that, Lupin's image banished from the mirror.

"Well, that was useful", Fiddler said when Harry put the mirror away.

"What do you mean? It was great!", Ginny said, still giggling.

"Oh, yeah, _spiffing_", Fiddler mocked. "But we didn't solve anything, did we?"

Everyone's smiles banished at that.

"You know something, she's right", Hermione said. "I mean, he'll mention it at the meeting and then _they'll_ handle it. And they'll cut us off again".

"They still don't trust us, do they?", Ron asked.

"Nah… We'll always be kids to them", Ginny agreed.

"Specially if you keep acting like kids", Fiddler said acidly. "Anyway, I think we should all get some sleep now. It's getting late and you've got classes tomorrow".

"Yeah… Snape at first hour in the morning, though", Ron said, brightly. "Sure you don't want to join us for once, Fidd?"

They all burst into chortles again, and Fiddler said, evenly:

"You know, I might just do that", because she guessed, and guessed right, that it would be enough to shut him up. "Good night, kids", she added and walked to the door to drop the wards. They wished her a good night as well as they climbed out the disguised door, and Fiddler was about to close it when Ginny's bright red head poked back inside.

"Don't mind Ron, Fiddler", she said in a hurry. "You know… that's the way he behaves when… he's got a crush on someone. He'll get over it".

And with that, she was gone.

~§~§~§~

"Did you hear that, Trisks?", Fiddler said one she had closed the door. "Now it turns out the kid has a crush on me. _Unbelievable"._

Triskelion looked at her, nonchalant as usual, and yawned widely. 

"Yeah, I know you couldn't care less", Fiddler said. "Now, move over, I want to sit there".

Triskelion yawned yet again, stared at her, slowly stood up, circled around the seat in front of the window, and slumped back into it, almost boldly. 

"Oh, that's very nice of you, thank you".

Fiddler cleared out the rest of the sweets feast and dragged a chair to the window, sitting to face the darkness outside, with her chin propped up in her hand. There was only one thing she missed from her Muggle house, and that was the freedom to listen to her music before she went to sleep. Of course, no electrical device worked on highly magic grounds such as Hogwarts', and although Hermione had tried to charm her CD player, nothing had worked so far, and Fiddler missed her music. Sometimes it seemed like the only thing she had, apart from her animals, her books… and medicine.

_What a pathetic imitation of life_, she told herself.

She wasn't really looking through the window, she was more like using it as a reflection for inner thoughts. She was alone now, so she could indulge herself and sing, however low, to herself…

_Toll no bell for me, Father  
But let this cup of suffering pass from me  
Send me no shepherd to heal my world  
But the Angel - the dream foretold  
Prayed more than thrice for You to see  
The wolf of loneliness in me  
...not my own will but Yours be done…_

She sighed_._

_You've done it again, you know it, don't you, _part of her brain spoke from a side of her mind.

_Yeah, I do. What can I tell you, some of us just never learn._

_Oh, and you want to go through all that again?_

_Well, it's not like I have a choice, is it? I didn't mean this to happen, so stop harping at me._

_You could have stopped it if you'd only---_

_If I'd only what? Don't give me that bull, you know some things… can't be stopped._

Yeah, she knew that all right. And that part of her brain that happily nagged her all day long obviously displeased at such disgraceful things as feelings or longings, should have known that as well. 

Fiddler was starting to doze off when an angry growl from Triskelion startled her off her slumber.

"What's wrong with you?", she asked the dog. "What did you see?"

Triskelion was arched up with his nose touching the window, almost as if reading himself to jump out, barking madly at the darkness outside. Fiddler peered out but saw nothing more than the stars and the tops of the trees slowly dancing in the nighttime wind.  She sighed and blew a warming breath to her hands. It was a cold night.

"Triskelion, I don't see a thing, you paranoid lump… Now shut up or you'll wake everybody up".

But the wolf-like dog wouldn't shut up for the life of him, and Fiddler, conditioned from a lifetime of having stubborn pets, rummaged through her stuff in search for anything that even remotely resembled a lantern. Of course, there was none.

"You know, Trisks, I am not the heroin kind at all. I would never go out and find out who made that strange noise outside my do---", and she went silent, because Triskelion had indeed jumped out the window to the forrest above it. Shattered pieces of windowpane flew everywhere and Fiddler took a step back to avoid being hit by one.

"TRISKELION!", she yelled, poking her head out the window. Her dog was running hastily into the darkness, and he appeared to be unharmed. "Well, it's not a long fall after all", she said pensively. "Stupid animal…"

She wasn't one to go and find out the source of mysterious noises, all right, but she was certainly the one who'd walk out in the cold night to collect her astray nutter pet from wherever he was. She sighed and put on a warm jumper. She was wearing one of her surgery scrubs, navy blue this one, and she supposed the thin fabric would have to do, because she wasn't about to change right now. She found her trainers under the bed and put them on, and finally made it to the hallway, plucking a torch on her way to the main entrance. Thankfully, she didn't run into anyone on her way out, not even everpresent Filch or his tittle-tattle cat Mrs. Norris. 

"TRISKELION!", she yelled once outside, walking against the frantically blowing wind and shivering all over. _Damn, it's cold out here! _"Triskelion, come ON! Get BACK here, you little piece of---OUCH!"

She tripped on a root and sprained her ankle, like only she knew how. She tried to avoid falling over by moving both her arms like a mad windmill but failed dismally and fell down on her backside. The torch went out leaving her sitting on really sore buttocks and no better mood, surrounded by darkness.

"Oh, nice move, Fiddler", she said out loud, struggling to get on her feet. "Really nice move…!"

She limped forward, hesitantly now that there were no lights, and yelled again, with all the might of her Banshee voice:

"TRISKELION! GET BACK HERE _NOW!"_

She heard a clatter and some barking coming from a bush somewhere to her left and she shuffled towards it.

"Gotcha", she mumbled evilly as she bent to crawl into the bush. But the creature that greeted her there was certainly not Triskelion. It was a real wolf.

**A/N.**

TBC, please R & R!!!!!

Thanx a lot to my kind beta Ian for his BRILLIANT thoughts!!!

Disclaimer: All characters and HP universe belong to J.K. Rowling, except for the ones you don't recognize. The plot as well is mine and solely mine!! No profit is being made!!!!


	7. Vulnerant omnes, ultima necat

Chapter 7 

**Vulnerant omnes, ultima necat.**

Her first instinct was to get up and run. Fast.

But then she remembered she had a sprained ankle and that even if she didn't, she could never outdo a wolf, therefore, running was calling for a disaster. So she willed herself to remain calmed, not to move so as not to disturb the animal in front of her. 

She held out a hand towards it, hesitantly and whispered:

"Hello there.... I won't hurt you and you don't hurt me. How's that?"

The wolf sniffed at her hand delicately whilst Fiddler murmured to herself: _Don't lose it, animals smell fear, stay cool, stay cool…",_ and then a wet tongue came out and licked her fingers in acceptance. Fiddler let out a very relieved sigh.

"Deal", she said, risking to scratch behind the wolf's ears. It didn't pull away or bit her hand off and Fiddler smiled proudly in the dark. She'd done it again; Fiddler Greene, the human outcast, the one who couldn't get along with mankind for the life of her, had won the heart of another beast.

Life's ironic at the best of times, that's what she'd always said.

"So I am guessing it's _you_ Triskelion saw from the window", she told the wolf. "Are you his mate or something?", Fiddler thought there was the chance, since no one seemed to know where had Triskelion came from in the first place. "Where is he, anyway?"

She glanced around, but Triskelion was nowhere to be found. She winced and sat properly, legs already numb from crouching… and then she was startled to feel dampness spreading through her scrub's bottom. She moved a little and, on instinct, one of her fingers scooped a dollop and she brought it to her nose to sniff at it.

It was blood. 

She'd smelled it and seen it too often at the hospital to be mistaken about it.

"Having a late supper, uh?", she addressed the wolf, but oddly enough, it seemed anguished at the smell of blood in her hand, and started howling miserably.

"It wasn't you, then", Fiddler said, and getting on all fours, she sighed: "Oh, will this night ever end".

She crawled further into the bush, following the trails of blood by mere smell and touch, until her fingers found fabric instead of grass. It was really too dark to see who it was, but obviously the wolf was fond of that person, for he tugged at the robes frantically and howled even louder.

"Shut up, wolf, you're distracting me", Fiddler said as she felt for a pulse. "Well, whoever he is, he's got a good pulse". She then struggled to turn the person over. "Gods, it's heavy… would you give me a hand?", she talked to the wolf again, not really expecting for it to do something, but surprisingly it did, pushing the limp form on the ground softly with its snout.

"You know, gentleness won't do", Fiddler said. "We have to--- what's this?", she held out a hand to grab the shining object on the ground, without relinquishing her grip on the unconscious person next to her.

She felt a curious tug somewhere around her navel, and next thing she knew, the wolf, the bush and the forest where gone.

~§~§~§~

Alastor Moody woke up from his slight slumber when he heard noises coming out from the drawing room.

"Trespassers!", he howled, his wand ready, as he ran towards the door. "Lupin, Tonks, get the hell UP! TRESPASSERS!"

He kicked the lounge's door open and froze in midstep, a killing curse struggling to come out from his lips. Inside the room, next to the hearth, were the obviously inconscious form of Severus Snape and a dark haired woman dressed in a really funny attire crouched next to him.

In that very minute, Tonks and Lupin appeared behind him, both looking drowsy and bemused.

"What's wrong, Mad-Eye…?", asked Tonks. "Trespassers, you say? How---", but she didn't continue as she took in the sight before her.

"Hey, Tonks", said Fiddler then.

"Fiddler! What happened? What are you doing here?" exclaimed Lupin.

"Fiddler? Who the hell is Fiddler?", asked Moody.

"Long story, Mad-Eye", said Tonks dismissively.

"No Death Eater, though? She looks a bit like Bellatrix Lestrange…"

"MAD-EYE!"

"I'm just saying… Oi! What are you doing?", he asked Fiddler.

"Checking his pulse, of course", and indeed, so she was, and it felt right still.  She opened his eyelides next, and there was nothing abnormal in his pupils either. "Right, he's breathing by himself and pulse and pupils are fine. I believe he's just knocked out. Now, I need to find the bleeding source". 

Three pairs of eyes observed her intently as she parted his hair meticulously, in search of injured scalp. She finally found it, near to the nape of his neck, a really ugly-looking wound surrounded by a wide purple area and dry blood.

"That must have hurt", said Moody's voice behind Fiddler.

"Tonks? Why don't you get me some warm water and some soap? I need to clean this up".

Tonks waved her wand in the air and a bucketful of soapy water and a sponge appeared out of thin air next to fiddler.

"Of course. It's easier that way", she conceded. She proceded to scrub and rinse thoroughly, and sat back as she finished, examining the clean cut. It was deep and even, but apparently there was no skull damage; and it was, Fiddler calculated, around ten stitches long. She said that out loud and Moody barked with laughter.

"Forget stitches, we've had bad experiences. No, we can mend it easily like this", he said, and waving his own wand this time, he touched it to Snape's head and the flesh started knitting right away.

"That would have saved me _a lot _of time at the ER", Fiddler said, amazed. "Well, I didn't see signs of skull fracture, but I would need a CT to be absolutely certain… It seems like someone got him on the back".

"That it would seem, indeed", Moody agreed. "Now. Would you _care _to explain who you are and what are you two doing here?"

Fiddler nodded and got to her feet, stretching her numb lower limbs. Tonks used _mobilicorpus_ to levitate Snape to a sofa, and Lupin conjured some coffee and cinnamon cakes. Fiddler limped her way towards a chair and groaned softly as she sat down.

"Are you hurt?", Lupin inquired.

"It's nothing, just a wrenched ankle", she smiled. Lupin eyed her thoughtfully, but said nothing else, so Fiddler told them everything, from the moment Triskelion had jumped out of the window until she'd grabbed the shining object next to Severus, which was currently lying next to the hearth. Lupin went over to pick it up and examined it carefully.

"A Portkey. Set up by Dumbledore, apparently".

"How do you know?", asked Tonks.

"Well, it's a Galleon, you see, but it's got Fawkes carved in this side".

"Ah".

"What's a Portkey?", asked Fiddler.

"A magical travelling device. Pretty much the only one that'd work at Hogwarts", clarified Tonks. "Heavily warded, Hogwarts… Always been, but ever since You-Know-Who returned… Well, Dumbledore saw fit to… um… extreme precautions".

"And how did the two of us managed to get here?"

"Well, I assume you were in contact with Snape when you grabbed the Portkey, weren't you?"

"Um…", Fiddler frowned. "Yeah, I think I was".

"That would be it".

"Was there anyone else around when you found him?", asked Moody.

"No, just the wolf".

"That wolf. It could be an animagus for all we know", growled Moody. "This is getting dangerous. This house's been exposed too many times already, and we cannot risk---",

"It's not an animagus", said a hoarse voice from the sofa.

"Pardon me?"

"I said", repeated Snape, sitting up, "that the wolf is not an animagus. She's my… familiar".

"Lay back down", ordered Fiddler in her best doctory tone. "You've been knocked out".

But of course, the man ignored her. Drat him twice.

"Well, Snape", said Lupin then. "I didn't know you cared for pets. A wolf, is it? So it's only werewolfs you can't stand, then?"

Snape opened his mouth to retort, but he went silent as he heard the noise of a door being shut down below. Moody was on his feet immediately and he had his wand in his hand. 

"Were you followed?", he asked gruffly.

"Don't  be ridiculous, Mad-Eye, they got here by Portkey", spoke Tonks.

"There's someone down there", said Moody stubbornly.

"Probably just Kreacher", Lupin interceded.

"All the more a reason to be concerned. You two, come with me", Moody ordered. "Fiddler, stay with Snape", he was about to leave the room when he rolled his magic eye down to peer through the floor. "On a second thought", he added, stopping. "We might want to use that portkey back to Hogwarts".

"Why?" asked Fiddler, although she already knew the answer.

"Death Eaters. And a good number of them, too".

"But the house's Unplottable!", wailed Tonks, disbelieving.

"Well, someone _plotted_ it all right", growled Moody. "Now shut up and go to the Portkey".

"Are we going to just flee, then?", Tonks spoke, in a rather disappointed voice.

"Don't be stupid, Tonks, it's three of us against at least twenty of them, and I---"

"Four", said Snape. Everyone turned to look at him and he elucidated: "There is _four_ of us. But as much as I hate to admit it, Moody is right. We are outnumbered. And, I don't know about you, Tonks, but I am certainly _not_ into foolhardy self-sacrifice. And I do have a cover to keep".

"But the portkey's too small for all of us", Fiddler said.

"It will do", stated Moody, grumpily. "Besides, it's the only way we have to get there… Without being followed. Once there, the castle wards will protect us. Now hurry before they reach us".

He followed Lupin towards the sofa where Snape sat and held the Portkey-galleon out to him so he could press a finger to it; they all did the same and in no time they were stumbling on the floor of the Headmaster's office.

He seemed to  be waiting for their arrival.

      Dumbledore listened carefully to Moody's account, and remained silent for quite a moment after he'd finished. Finally, he asked Severus if he was all right, and at his curt nod, he stood up and walked to the hearth, to call for Minerva McGonagall.

"They've broken into Grimmauld Place, Minerva", he said with no preambles. "And I have just learned that the house is currently on fire…", Minerva's anguished face was but a mere reflection of the others' expression. "Please, get the Weasleys, Hermione and Harry, and see if you can contact Arthur and  Molly.  A course of action must be taken right away".

Minerva nodded silently, and the green flames disappeared along with her.

"On fire, Albus?", Tonks exclaimed then. "The house's _on fire?"_

"I am afraid so, Nymphadora", replied Dumbledore. "That was a very narrow escape":

"Don't mind that, Albus, we need new Headquarters!"

"I am aware of that. We need to find a new location and make it swift, so we can ward it. This is just the beginning, I fear".

"How did you know the house was on fire?", asked Fiddler then.

Sadly, Dumbledore showed them a black envelope and pulled out a single moving picture of a cross caught on fire right in front of the stairs, and more flaming letters shinning across the wall: _Vulnerant omnes, ultima necat._

"Well, they have a sense of the dramatic", Fiddler spoke to herself.

But Moody heard her.

"What do you mean by that, lass?"

"I--- Um…", Fiddler hesitated. Moody's magic eye uneased her. "It's the words, you know… what they mean… _each of them shall hurt, the last one shall kill"._ Originally, the phrase was used in reference to the hours, but this is a rather twisted meaning, I say. And the cross… It… reminded me of the KKK".

"The what?", asked Tonks.

"The KKK. It's… a Muggle thing. You wouldn't want to hear about it".

"Oh, we do, Fiddler. Do continue", spoke Dumbledore.

Fiddler shifted in her chair, whining inwardly at her injured ankle, wondering how to begin. She could feel everybody's gazes fixed on her, and she tried to shield herself against Severus' scowl. _He really shouldn't keep doing that. His face will stick that way. Oh, nevermind, it happened already._ She stifled a giggle and sighed before she finally spoke:

"Let's see. The original Ku Klux Klan was organized in the United States by—" she heard Severus' derisive grunt and stopped. She couldn't help it. _What are you _doing_, you twit? Don't stop. "_…By ex-Confederate elements to oppose the Reconstruction policies of the radical Republican Congress and to maintain 'white supremacy'. Originally there were many… Um… shall we say it, informal vigilante patrols, for there were fears of black outrages, but then, General Forrest, a cavalry leader, was made Grand Wizard of the Empire and---"

"Grand _what?!"_, exclaimed her audience in unison.

"Yes, I know how that sounds. That's what worries me", Fiddler said. "They had a rather unique form of organization, which indeed reminds me of the Death Eaters… or should I say, the other way around. Let's see…", she frowned her eyebrows in concentration, and she continued: "So there was the Grand Wizard and his ten Genii, which would be the highest in rank. It was virtually impossible to reach the Grand Wizard and the Genii were his inner circle, the men he most trusted. Then, each State constituted a Realm under a Grand Dragon with eight Hydras as a staff; those were the seconds in the power scale, but not any less ruthless than the Genii… And then, came the Grand Titans, who controlled a Dominion, constituted by several small counties, aided by six Furies each.  Each county itself was a Province on its own, ruled by a Grand Giant and four Night Hawks, and last, there was the local Den, or each town, governed by a Grand Cyclops and two Night Hawks. The individual members where called Ghouls".

"Merlin's wand…", whispered Tonks. She seemed shocked to the core.

"The Klan was often able to achieve its aims by terror alone", Fiddler continued. "They played upon people's fears and supertitions… their language and commands, their midnight rides, their disguises---"

"Disguises?", asked Lupin.

"Yes. They… would muffle their horses' feet  and cover them with white sheets. They themselves would dress in flowing white droves, white masks on their faces, skulls on their saddle horns… and the Cross Firing ritual. _That _cross", she ended, pointing at the photo Dumbledore still held.

"White supremacy…", whispered Tonks.

"They believed in it, eyes closed. They were truly convinced that it was upto them and them alone to rule the world. They even had their initials for what one should _be _to become worthy; I think there was a time when all children's aim was to be a WASP".

"WASP? ", asked Moody, momentarily nonplussed.

"White, Anglosaxon and Protestant", Fiddler said, lip curling up in a mocking smile. "It's the same thing with you, isn't it?  Purebloods, Halfbloods, Mudbloods, and, God forbid, Halfbreeds… It's the same old story, wand or not".

No one found a reply to that.

"That was certainly enlightening, my dear", said Dumbledore. "I have always been aware that Voldemort's interests went beyond… the obscure. Evermore. He must have picked the idea from his travels".

He surely had, but Fiddler barely agreed, because she had heard Severus' voice in her head, as clear as though he was snarling at her face: _Just what we needed, Muggle History lessons by _another_ know-it-all",_ and she couldn't help it. Her mouth opened of its own accord and she heard herself say:

"And yet you lived ruled by them for most of your life".

She'd done it. Snape stood up abruptly, rage contorting his sallow face. He took a step forward but swayed violently as faintness took over him. Fiddler jumped to his side, mindless of her sprained ankle, and grabbed him by his flourishing robe to prevent him from falling. He jerked away and hissed:

"_Do not_ _touch me"._

It was barely a whisper, but menacing enough to stop the approaching Lupin in midmotion. But Fiddler was a doctor, after all, and she was used to aggressive patients, so she curled her arm around his waist (he was too tall to try and round his shoulders), and led him back to the chair, limping slightly herself. That jolt had done nothing good for her battered ankle.

"Sit down and shut up", she ordered him curtly. Lupin sat back down next to Tonks and they both stared at Fiddler in amazement. No one, not even Dumbledore, had ever talked to Severus Snape like that. They observed her as she took his wrist and tensed when he yanked it away. Moody seemed to be enjoying the show.

"I said, do _not_ touch me", Severus spoke through gritted teeth.

"And I said, shut up. I have to check on you, so please…", Fiddler resumed her pulse checking, but he grabbed her own wrist, strong enough to make her step back, but not a sound came out of her lips, although she very much wanted to whine in pain. _But if you think you'll have that satisfaction, think twice._

"Leave me alone".

She stared at him challengily, ignoring the fury in his voice, and finally, the tight grip on her hand eased.

"Stop acting like a child, will you?", she told him. "I am trying to help you".

"I don't need your help".

"Oh, yeah, I can see that", she mocked.

"Severus", Dumbledore spoke, and the relief on Tonks' face was blatant. Fiddler had to fight the urge to smile. _You wouldn't do good at the ER, girl,_ she thought. "Severus, let her help you".

It wasn't Dumbledore's usually amiable voice; it had sounded like an order. 

_And about time too, or we'd been here all night._

Severus closed his eyes, still shaking with anger, and stat in repressive silence until Fiddler was done with her examination. Once she pronounced him free of life-threatening conditions and ordered bedrest, he looked up to sneer at her, but he was confronted instead with her right hand and the first outlines of a rather spectacular bruise around her wrist.

And he felt a rather unusual emotion. 

Guilt.  

He held out a hand to touch the damaged hand, to touch _her_… but he thought better of it and quickly withdrew. She didn't seem to notice.

Minerva was coming inside in that very moment, with what it seemed the whole of Weasley family, Harry and Hermione on tow. Severus watched Fiddler hide her bruised hand in the sleeve of her jumper and the pang of culpability hit him again.

_I did that to her and she's hiding it for no one to see it._

"Arthur and Molly just arrived by portkey", Minerva informed then. "I have told them the essentials.  Where will we set up new quarters?"

"Yes, there is still that matter to solve", spoke Dumbledore calmly, letting out that the subject had been pushed out of their minds for a moment.

They regarded him in silence as he appeared immerse in deep thought, and when no one said anything for a while, Fiddler spoke:

"You know, we could use my house".

They turned to look at her.

"What?"

"Yeah, my house! I mean, think of it, no one of _that lot_ knows it exists, and if anything, Albus could ward it and make it unplottable or whatever… And it's big enough to fit us all in", she smiled.

"But the Muggles… the---"

"Oh, no one lives near it, it's atop of a cliff and completely lonesome… No one lived there but me".

"A most excellent idea, Fiddler, thank you", interceded Albus and the twinkle of his eyes was firmly back on place. "That is a great service you're doing us".

"It's all right".

"How would we get there?", asked Molly Weasley. "I don't think it's connected to the Floo Network… Would we use a portkey? Or brooms?"

"No, Molly, I am afraid you will not use magic of any sorts. You know it can be tracked, and we cannot risk that. I am afraid you will have to get there by Muggle methods".

Molly seemed horrified. 

"But Albus, think of the luggage, the lot of---"

"He's right", growled Moody. "Don't argue, Molly".

"Will we go as well?", asked Harry.

"As soon as you graduate", replied Dumbledore, and Fiddler could see the anguished expression on Severus' face. "We cannot risk Draco Malfoy informing his father that the lot of you have banished from school. Now", he raised from his chair and petted Fawkes. "Molly. Nymphadora. Alastor. Arthur. Remus. You will get ahead of us and set things ready. Minerva and Severus will stay behind so as not to rise suspicions. You will be allowed to perform some spells to ward the house, but when the rest join you, magic will be restrained. I will personate myself in the house to Unplot it and to perform the _Fidelius_ Charm. I think that will be all for now".

They all rose to leave then, and Severus watched Fiddler limp her way to the door. She was rubbing her still hidden right hand, but her face was expressionless. In the last minute, she turned to see Albus and spoke:

"Albus, since I am sure he won't listen to me, could you please make Severus see that he needs his rest? Despicable as you might find Muggle medicine, I assure you I know what I am talking about. Thank you".

And with a rather anguished dignity, she left the Headmaster's office.

**A/N.**

TBC, Please R&R!!!

Once again, thanx a million to my beta reader Ian!!!

Disclaimer: All characters and HP universe belong to J.K. Rowling, except for the ones you don't recognize. The plot as well is mine and solely mine!! No profit is being made!!!!


	8. Elvenpath

**Chapter 8**

**Elvenpath.**

The following months passed quickly considering the circumstances, and Fiddler counted herself fortunate to have the kids fussing around her like manic puppies. And they were not to be blamed, really, because apparently news flew around there, and by then pretty much everybody knew about the so called row between Fiddler and Severus. 

"You actually told him to _shut up_, did you?", Ron had asked, amazed, and when she said she had, she had become a total idol for the kids. And not just for them, either. Pretty much everyone at Hogwarts seemed to believe Fiddler should be granted an Order of Merlin for her bravery.

She didn't quite know if she should find it flattering or appalling.

Ever since the Episode in Albus' office, she had avoided any contact at all with the morose Potions Master, mainly because she didn't trust herself near him. She didn't know whether she wanted to beat him to a pulp of hold him close, and she suspected that a good measure of both things what was he deserved.

When he had nearly crushed her wrist to pieces, she had seen an image from his mind, disturbing enough to shake her to the core; an old cemetery, covered in dried leaves, withered roses, statues of black-winged cherubs, holding bows with poisoned arrows, howling winds, snow flying to the moon, blood dripping from the celtic crosses…

A graveyard of dreams.

And that was where he'd end up if no one did something.

_Drop your heroin dellusions, Fiddler, he neither wants nor needs your help._

She looked down to her right hand, where she bore the mark of his fingers. It had been almost four months since the Episode, and she still had faint traces of the bruise he'd produced. She suspected there had been a connection between them and the damned ecchymosis was a magical prove of it.

"Fiddler? You're daydreaming again", Ron informed her.

"Uh? Oh… Yeah. So I was. Sorry. Were… were you saying something?"

"Yes, Mum wrote. Says they've finished with the house. Dumbledore went over last weekend to Unplot it and they performed the _Fidelius_ charm, so officially, your house has became the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix".

"Well, finally some good news", said Harry moodily, and they knew he was still mad at Snape for his last failure in Potions.

"You know, Harry, you should be used by now", Ron said matter-of-factly. "After all, it's been seven years now!"

"Even if it's twenty", growled Harry. "I don't have to put up with it".

"Yes you do if you want to be an Auror", Hermione reminded him, because that was the only reason the three of them were still taking Potions.

"He'll do everything in his power to fail us, mark my words".

"Dumbledore won't let him", Ginny said.

"Dumbledore shouldn't let him sabotage my work!", exclaimed Harry.

"We _know,_ Harry", said Hermione. "But there's nothing we can do about it so what's the point of harping?"

"Sometimes I need to harp".

Fiddler knew the feeling quite well.

"Is Snape going to your house, Fiddler?", Ginny asked.

"Well, I don't know. Considering it's _my_ house… Who knows? He might just decide he wants to be a Death Eater after all", she said, half joking, and was relieved when the kids laughed. She felt gloomy, and he was the only one to blame for.

"Fiddler, I am sorry, but I am afraid we're going to have to leave you here for a bit", Hermione said. "We have class in ten minutes".

"Yes, go right ahead", Fiddler said and waved them goodbye as they walked back into the castle, leaving he sitting in her usual spot on the grass. 

She really was loath to move, so she settled herself comfortably to enjoy the sun and the soft breeze.

~*~*~

  Severus was finding hard to concentrate in his marking. It was a warm day even in the dungeons, and his professorial black attire only but improved the unaccostumed coziness he was feeling. He shook his head angrily and fought the laziness that had crept over him. He stood up abruptly and grabbed a small bag made of some slippery black cloth. The temperature, he told himself, was perfect to gather some Allspice and Coriander herbs for a Soothing Draught.

Severus walked to his door, and at the last minute he decided to drop his flying cloak, so he reached the lawn near the lake without his trademark billowing. He peered around for the desired herbs… And stopped dead when he saw Fiddler leaning on a tree nearby, apparently fast asleep. He had to fight the very teenage urge to hide.

_She's asleep, Severus_, he told himself angrily._ Besides, I assure you she cannot see you from there._

        He tried to ignore her close presence as he collected his plants, and he succeeded until he heard a familiar drawling voice addressing Fiddler, and he tensed inwardly. He tossed the Allspice and Coriander into the bag, and walked stealthily towards them, feeling perplexedly outraged when he saw Draco Malfoy looking down on her with unmistakable scorn. 

"Who are you?", Severus heard Draco ask Fiddler as if she was invading private property. He watched her sit up and hold his gaze, unfaltering.

"Fiddler Greene, Draco. Nice meeting you too".

Draco seemed surprised that she knew his name, but he concealed it quickly.

"So you're the bitch everyone's been talking about".

"I guess", she conceded, as if she was supremely unconcerned, and Severus, from his own spot, felt the sudden need to bow at her machiavelic answer. _Qui nescit dissimulare, nescit regnare. _She was good at diplomace indeed.

"Yes…", Draco seemed nonplussed when he didn't get the answer he was expecting. "My— Father told me about you as well".

"I wager he didn't make it a nice bedtime story".

"Shut your mouth!", exclaimed Draco, distressed now. "Shut it, or I will make you".

"What do you want, Draco?", she asked with a tired voice. "Because I somehow doubt that you came here to discuss my so called fame".

"My father mentioned you would be helpful to our cause. But I see that old bat has managed to snatch you first… Or are you just undercover? Yes… I thought that would be it", he continued without waiting for an answer, "after all, the words in the castle are that you seem to have stunned my Head of House. That you actually _get along_ with him", Draco bent closer to Fiddler and whispered: "Nice move. _Learn from him._ He's our best agent".

Severus went taut. The boy was even more stupid than he'd thought. He was giving everything away and all for the sake of the lusty intentions Severus could smell even from where he was. No wonder why Delilah agents were always so successful in missions involving betrayal.

He waited for Fiddler's answer, but again, she surprised him by only bowing mockingly at Draco, without saying a word.

"They never mentioned you were so attractive…", Draco drawled, leaning even closer, almost at a kiss-distance. "No wonder why Snape won't share".

Snape was rigid at the point of breaking by then, and scrutinized with narrowed eyes Fiddler's face as she watched the younger man's lust-filled eyes and laughed in his face. 

"Oh, _please! _If you think I am going to fall for that, think twice".

Something deep in Severus' heart reacted at the thinly veiled bitterness in her voice.

Draco wasn't used to being rejected, and his face twisted with rage. Severus watched Fiddler get to her feet, fully intenting to leave Draco standing there, but he pushed her back against the tree to stop her.

"Where are you going, bitch?", he growled.

"Back into the castle, if you'll excuse me", she said, and tried to walk away, but Draco was faster than her and pinned her to the tree. He grabbed both her hands and crushed them together, holding them between their bodies. 

"Don't you fight me, Fiddler", he adviced, gasping. "When you… join our ranks… You'll go through each and everyone of us. Haven't Snape told you?"

"Let go of me", Fiddler said curtly, ignoring his question, her fierce gaze fixed on him.

"Oh, I see where this is heading… That selfish bastard wants to keep you for himself, doesn't he? Well, I'll make sure he finds out he can't do that…"

He let go of her hands to grab her face rudely, and Fiddler seized her chance. As he pulled her head closer to his, biting her lips savagely, her left hand shot forward between his legs. She squeezed tightly and Draco screamed in agony.

"Do that again and you'll need major surgery to water the garden, kid. I _assure_ you I _don't_ need magic to rip it off". Her tone was low, steady, icy, and so very dangerous that Severus himself stepped back.

Draco glared at Fiddler, but released her all the same. 

"Good boy", she said, sarcastically, loosening her white-knuckled grip on him. "Now hit the road, you're meddling with my sun".

"I'll show you", Draco spoke tremolously stepping backwards. "You— You can't talk to me like that".

"Oh, I believe I just did", she said lightly. "Now go, or you'll find out if I live up to my fame or not".

Draco resumed his very undignified retreat, muttering curses unders his breath. Severus watched him disappear through an archway and then focused his attention on Fiddler, who was leaning against the tree, eyes closed and shaking slightly. She brought a hand to her lips and wiped the blood Draco's teeth had drawn.

"Bastard", he heard her curse.

He felt the unfathomable need to reach out for her, to see if she was all right, but he quickly smothered it and walked away, leaving her standing there, finally giving into fear when no one was there to see it.

But his mind kept wandering back to her. 

Fiddler Greene, Banshee and Witch, so strong and yet so vulnerable…

Dumbledore was wrong.

She _did_ have some Gryffindor qualities.

Only she kept them hidden.

~*~*~*~

Graduation was a very imposing ceremony indeed. Dumbledore congratulated the graduate wizards, bid them good luck and welcomed them into the real world. He also encouraged them to pursue their chosen careers to a successful end and finally, he asked them to remain united in the fight against Voldemort. Everyone saw Cornelius Fudge wince at that, but he remained pompously stiff as he awarded Ministry Certificates of Achievement to the Head Girl and Boy, and to the students who had attained most NEWTs. Harry wasn't among the awarded students, and they all knew Snape had had something to do with it, but they were too thrilled to actually care. Hermione, of course, broke every record in the school by achieving NEWTs in all of her subjects, and incredibly, or maybe not so much, Draco got a suspiciously high amount of NEWTs himself, much to Ron's chagrin.

Fiddler enjoyed her friends' graduation Ball enormously. She even agreed to dance with Harry and Ron, despite she was a lousy dancer; she congratulated Hermione for her achievements, complimented Ginny on her wonderful hairdo and tried not to hurt Ron's feelings when he, after quite a few pints of butterbeer, confessed his feelings for her.

He seemed to take her rejection quite all right, and soon enough Ginny caught him snogging a Hufflepuff sixth year girl on a dark corner. 

Fiddler left the party early, because she had a plane to catch the next day. Dumbledore had asked her to go back home so she could get used to the wards and the house's new dispositions and to wait for the arrival of the others, so she got to her room undisturbed (she had feared Draco would follow her, but thankfully, Pansy Parkinson was keeping him busy), and checked her luggage for the last time.

She petted Triskelion and got to bed, her mind reliving the most interesting things that had happened during the day. She had expected to see Severus in the Great Hall, but he had been nowhere to be found.

_He might have been on an errand for Dumbledore,_ she mused, _or maybe he's too much of a hermit to actually attend to the ball._

_Why do you care?,_ she asked herself.

_You know why._

_You're despicable. Now get some sleep._

She obeyed herself and closed her eyes.

        She was abruptly waken by a squeaking elf after what it only seemed like minutes and sighing, she got out of bed and dressed hastily. She picked up her small case, where Hermione had charmed in all of her things, and carrying Triskelion to her chest, headed for the door, to find Minerva McGonagall standing there.

"I thought you might like some company", she said.

It was dawning when they boarded the Hogwarts Express and, much to Fiddler's embarrassement, she and Triskelion slept most of the trip to King's Cross.  Minerva gave her an unexpected hug as Fiddler was getting ready to past the platform nine-and-three-quarters, and told her her father would have been proud of her.

Oddly enough, that thought brightened Fiddler's flight back home.

~*~*~

The trip to the airport had been a nightmare. Albus had suggested they should all get there together, and Severus had been thus stranded with four of the Weasleys' offspring, Granger… _and Potter._ His very own idea of Hell.

And they seemed determined to annoy him by acting like complete brats all the way to King's Cross. Fred and George had scared the wits out of a Muggle woman by Apparating right in front of her, much to Severus' displeasure, and the taxi ride had been beyond what he thought he could bear.

He remained stiff and forbidding, cursing his faith and Albus' magic restriction that prevented him from hexing them into drooling dunces, and urged himself to remain focused and alive long enough to catch their flight.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is the first call to Aer Lingus flight number 113 from London to Kerry. First class passengers, kindly form a line to the right of the counter. Thank you".

"That's us, Sev!", Fred exclaimed, patting his shoulder mischeviously. Severus' hand shot quick as lightning to grab the readhead's wrist.

"You will _not_ do that again", he hissed dangerously. "Neither will you address me as anything else but 'sir', do I make myself clear?"

"SIR, YES, SIR!", Fred saluted him mockingly, much to the amusement of the others. "But sir, we must line up there, sir, for customs, _sir!_

Severus sighed and rose regally to approach the forming line, ignoring the howls of laughter behind him.

"How did we get first class tickets, anyway?", he heard Potter ask.

"Oh, Dumbledore's treat"-

"You know, Harry", Hermione intervened, voice low, glancing at her former teacher who was glancing everywhere as if expecting an army to stride in and start killing people. "I think we should help Snape out. He seems rather lost".

"Are you kidding me?", Harry snorted. "I would _love_ to see him get his from a Muggle!"

They chuckled at that, but they were miffed when he went through customs with nothing more than his usual scowl and the officer's raised brow at his dark bags and the even darker garments packed in them.

George was next, and nearly gave the officer heart failure when he opened his bag and four warty toads jumped to his face. He eyed suspiciously at all of Hermione's books, choked on a chortle when he saw Ginny's idea of Muggle clothing, and decided not to comment when he was confronted with the sight of Harry's Firebolt. Fred was last on tow, but the customs officer looked at him and decided to let him through unchecked.

  They then went pass the metallic hallway into the aircraft and a grinning stewardess led them to their seats.

"Together", groaned Severus and Harry in unison, and it was almost comic.

Almost.

Severus took for himself the very last seat on the first class compartment and sat there, fully intending to ignore the blasted twits for the rest of the journey, but he didn't count on the californian old bags that swarmed tourist class, all of whom, led by Fred and George, sang folk songs and polkas at the top of their lungs_,_ _all flight long._

The stewardess brought him a glass of cheap champaigne and sipping at it disgustedly, he leaned his head on the window and closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep despite the raging noise. But he still caught fragments of his travelmates' conversation, and he was very angry with himself when his whole body tensed at the sound of the words Fiddler Greene.

He hadn't seen much of her since that day at Dumbledore's office, if he didn't count the scene under the tree, and he wasn't all too ecstatic with the emotions the sight of her bruised wrist had waken.  It had been a while since he'd lost control this badly, but it was also true that no one had ever had the insolence of addressing to him like she'd done. Not even amongst the Death Eaters. Over and over Fiddler had challenged him both with words and eyes, as if she was determined to tear down his self-impossed wards.

And that was, to say the least, unsettling. 

That, and those comments he'd heard from Potter and his jolly band of slackers.

Taunting Fiddler.

About him.

He shook his head and shifted uncomfortably on his seat to find his posture. He didn't realise when he finally fell asleep, but he was waken soon enough by the sound of the landing plane thundering in his aching head.

"Do you think we should wake him?", he heard one of the Weasleys, probably Ronald, ask.

"Nah, let's just leave him there", one of his twin siblings answered.

"It's funny how he looks menacing even in his sleep", Hermione added.

"Oh, I am sure Fiddler would have something to say about that", Ron said, and Severus' eyes opened of their own volition, startling the Hell out of them.

"Are you quite finished with your insightful comments?", he sneered as he got to his feet. He marched through the plane's hallway without waiting for an answer, and he utterly ignored Fred or George when either one said:

"Somehow it's not the same without the flying robes".

 They left the airplane first of all, and followed the walking crowd to the running band to collect their luggage. Fred and George, of course, couldn't help themselves and, inwardly horrified, Severus watched the Muggle crowd cheering at the identical nitwits as they rode, jumped, danced and ran along the spinning bags. They rescued their own, throwing them above their heads, and causing sweets, various papers and underwear to spread all over the airport's lounge. Severus caught his bag in mid air out of pure impulse, before they could embarrass him further, and peered around looking… for Fiddler. 

He saw her right away, dressed in a bright blue blouse and khakhi pants and trainers, with sunglasses shielding her eyes and her hair pulled up with a hairclip.

"Hey! Midgets!", she yelled. "Over here!"

Fred and George stepped out of the running band and led the way towards her, carrying bags and suitcases, Severus in the rear, scowling. He watched as each of them hugged her in greeting, and part of his mind wondered if the world would fall if he hugged her as well.

_ I do not _'hug'_ people,_ he reminded himself, so he stopped in front of her and bowed his head silently.

"Hello, Severus", she said. "Long time, no see. How's that head of yours?"

"Quite all right, thank you", he said, curtly.

"That's good to hear. All right, kids, let's go. The van's not far away, so follow me…"

They stopped in midway to get themselves some trolleys and then followed Fiddler to a somewhat battered GM Denali, obviously manufactured in America, for it had the wheel at the left side of the car. It was painted in deep green and it was big enough to fit them all in, as they noted whilst putting the luggage in the trunk.

"Get up", Fiddler said, unlocking the doors. Ginny went first, followed by Harry, Hermione, Fred, George and Ron, thus taking all of the back seats. Fiddler eyed Severus somewhat scornfully and told him:

"Well, that leaves you and me in the front… Unless, of course, you'd rather sit on someone's lap…", she chuckled at the mental picture, quickly chorused by the blasted 'Kids', and not waiting for an answer, she unlocked the passenger's door and then circled the van to get in.

He didn't have a choice.

They drove for a long time through streets and fields, until they reached the coast, and then Fiddler followed a dusty path that led to a gate, made of cast iron that opened as Fiddler pushed the button on the remote control, and guided the Denali forward through a cobblestoned road. She turned brusquely, taking a detour, and quite suddenly they were in the middle of a thick forest of prolific York and Lancaster rose bushes, that grew to each side of the road in a delicious mess. 

"It's beautiful!", exclaimed Ginny and Hermione in unison, much to the males' dismay.

"Thanks", said Fiddler, ignoring them. "In fact, this road gave the house it's name".

"Is it? How come?"

"Well, I was once walking around at night and the athmosphere made me think of a song, so…"

"Why am I not surprised?", she heard Severus mumble.

"What song?"

"You know, in fact I think I might have the CD around here somewhere…" Fiddler stopped the van and reached for the glovebox in front of Severus, causing him to jerk away awkwardly.

"Loosen up, I won't bite you", she mocked, grabbing her CD case and rummaging through it.

"Yeah, here it is". She plucked the thin disc out and shoved it inside the CD player. And Severus heard for the second time that strangely metallic music, played with instruments he couldn't identify and following a rather frantic rhythm whilst the female voice sung. From his point of view, her high-pitched soprano voice was the only thing worth to hear.

Hearing music from the deepest forest  
Songs as a seduction of sirens  
The elf-folk is calling me  
  
Tapio, Bearking, Ruler of the forest  
Mielikki, Bluecloak, Healer of the ill and sad  
Open the gate and let me follow the uncarven path  
  
The way to the lands  
Where as a hero I stand  
The path where Beauty met the Beast  
Elvenpath  
  
It's the honesty of these worlds  
Ruled by magic and mighty swords  
That makes my soul long for the past  
Elvenpath  
  
The moonwitch took me to a ride on a broomstick  
Introduced me to her old friend Home Gnome  
Told me to keep the sauna warm for him  
  
At the grove I met rest-the folk of my fantasies  
Bilbo, Sparhawk, goblins and pixies,  
Snowman, Willow, trolls and the seven dwarfs  
The path goes forever on

_As I return to my room  
And as sleep takes me by my hand  
Madrigals from the woods  
Carry me to neverland  
In this spellbound night  
The world's an elvish sight_  
  


The song had ended. Severus looked out the window, feeling rather unnerved, and half expecting to see the Witches of Eastwick at the end of the road, stirring their cauldron and announcing the arrival of the Wicked. He tensed inwardly when he hear Fiddler say:

"Well, who ever said subconscious wasn't powerful", but she didn't seem to be expecting an answer, and she sped up like only she knew, to reach an ample garden soon enough.

 She drove through old splashing fountains and white archways, and finally, the imposing house surged before their eyes, adorned with climbing plants and rising with a rather solemn and stronghold air that didn't go unnoticed to Severus. The building had respectable dimensions, and it was made of solid reddish stone, which made him think that the original building had been brought down. 

Fiddler parked the battered Denali in the garage and led them to the front door.

"Well", she said, unable to hide her smile. "Welcome to Elvenpath".

**A/N.**

TBC, please R & R!!!!!

Thanx a lot to my kind beta Ian for his BRILLIANT thoughts!!!

Disclaimer: All characters and HP universe belong to J.K. Rowling, except for the ones you don't recognize. The plot as well is mine and solely mine!! No profit is being made!!!!


	9. Desperate Hearts

Chapter 9 

**Desperate hearts**

Molly Weasley had managed to turn Fiddler's lonesome mausoleum into a cozy home indeed. She had filled the house with flowers and cheerful songbirds, and delicious aromas came out from the kitchen all day long. The house's furniture had always been simple and made of clear wood, but Molly had charmed the linings' previous patterns to new luminous, merry ones, had hung on the walls some pictures of Wallace McGonagall that Minerva had sent, and had polished late Eustace Greene's weapon collection, that completely enthralled Fred, George and Arthur. She had aerated the long time empty bedrooms, got the fountains to work again, and charmed the gardens into a little version of Versailles'. She had also managed to fill the swimming pool in the terrace, bordered by pink granite, and the blue waters shimmered temptingly in the soft July's sun.

It was wonderful.

The kids brought along the comic line, Fred and George making them all laugh to death with their jokes and inventive, infuriating the wits out of their mother, and making Severus Snape feel like commiting suicide thrice a day. They had told Fiddler all about their trip to Ireland, fair imitation of Snape included, and she had laughed heartily despite herself, imagining the man's dismay.

"We planned it for months", the twins confessed mischeviously, as if it had been a complicated war strategy.

And so, as they waited for Dumbledore's orders, they devoted their days to extended waterpolo championships, strolls in the gardens, nocturnal bonfires and even rappeling down the cliff, as the twins could not resist the challenge. They had even tried to get the Greasy Git, as Ron called Snape, to agree to conga dance at their night fires, or at least catch him off-guard and throw him in the swimming pool, but they had not succeeded so far.

But not for lack of trying.

Severus was a very repressive man, and he didn't really fit with the rest of the Order of the Phoenix, but he had been forced to live in close proximity to the rest of them, and even though he wasn't sure he liked it, he was certainly getting used to it. He still hated Potter and it was a thorn in his side that he couldn't duck points off _them_ anymore, being as he was, stranded with a bunch of dunces, with no one with half a brain he could talk to, as Fiddler had gone back to the hospital and was out most of the day.

 And, best be said, she was deeply thankful for it…

Because she was finding very hard to be around Severus Snape.

    She had finally admitted to herself that the kids were right on teasing her, and that she was indeed more than just a little infatuated with the stern Potions Master. And she was sure that what she was beginning to feel for him was written all over her face. So she avoided him as much as she could, and when she did see him, her self protective instinct took over and she treated him with detached politeness and just the slighest hint of cocky irony…

Fiddler's natural, self-admitted way to hide her feelings for someone.

But sometimes they did manage to have interesting conversations, and Fiddler never ceased to amaze at the outstanding intellect of that man, his sarcastic point of view about a large amount of subjects, and their similar tastes in literature, theater, science and even music.

"I didn't think Wizards would be interested in Muggle arts and culture", she told him once, when they were discussing one of Fiddler's favorite plays, _Cyrano de Bergerac._

"One cannot limit the horizons of knowledge", he had replied silkily, "with all boundaries already set around us…"

Fiddler didn't reply, but she found herself agreeing with him.

She got to her feet to get them both a cup of tea and then, she returned to the library, to sit down in front of him, wanting more than life itself to crawl into his arms and stay there forever.

_Oh, for crying out LOUD, Fiddler Greene, get a god damned grip._

Yeah, the biggest part of herself laughed rather openly at her longings, knowing deep down that he'd never look at her twice.

No one ever did.

"You've gone suddenly quiet", she heard him say.

"Oh? Um— Yeah. I was… thinking".

"About?", Severus asked lightly, and he was more than amazed when he realised he actually cared about her answer.

"Oh… Nothing important, really", she said, trying not to blush.

Severus did not insist.

He leaned back on his chair and looked at the wall clock, the music coming for the everpresent CD player the only sound in the library. She seemed to have one of those in each room of the house. It was almost midnight and Fiddler and him where the only ones still awake. He looked at her, lost in her musings, and felt strangely relaxed, as if he'd known her for quite some time and they were now spending a quiet evening together as close friends… or even lovers did.

_Severus. Please, _he told himself mockingly, as he looked at her intently.

It had been a while since he'd last thought of himself in those terms.

He was aware, of course, that his appearance was not appealing, but truth be told, he had never given it more than a seldom disdainful thought. He did not particulary care for relationships, as one experience in particular had left him scalded for life. He had been young, more than a little reckless and eager to grow in the Dark Lord's appreciation, but nothing could have warned him for the shock he received when that heavenly creature had actually agreed to marry him.

He knew that, for wizarding standards, he was not a bad match; he was a Pureblood, an intelligent man with a wide grasp on various subjects, and the only heir of a none-at-all despicable fortune. Not that it mattered. 

So was Wynn.

The Dark Lord chose his minions carefully.

But Severus Snape wasn't a nice man, and his recent allegiance with Voldemort had only but accentuated his innate cruelty. Still, the Dark Lord had practically ordered their union, and back then, it was not a matter of disobeying. Now that he thought of it, marrying Wynn Ludlow had been one of the last orders that he ever took willingly from the Dark Lord.

He shook his head, ushering the memories away. There was no use in dwelling on that painful path.

Sudden images came to his head, an old cemetery, covered in dried leaves, withered roses, statues of black-winged cherubs, holding bows with poisoned arrows, howling winds, snow flying to the moon, blood dripping from the celtic crosses…

A graveyard of dreams.

Severus looked up to see Fiddler, who was eyeing him as if she'd seen the images in his head as clearly as he had. He pulled up his usual sneer and watched her wither under his gaze. She'd never faltered before, but somehow, tonight she seemed vulnerable, and Severus wondered idly how that change had come about.

 He saw her hastily return her eyes to her book and sigh as she pretended to be reading.

        _Cyrano de Bergerac._ How fitting. The romantic, cocky, big nosed cadet from Gascony, swordman, poet, philosopher, arrogant, proud, moonlover… Lost in love for his beautiful cousin, never daring to tell her because of his looks, helping instead the blonde, devastatingly handsome dunce she was in love with; Cyrano would write her passionate letters and whispered his love for her under her balcony, pretending to be Christian the Stunning. For what he had in beauty, lacked in brains.

_As usual,_ she thought bitterly. _And it also goes the other way around. As if _you_ didn't know._

Fiddler was intelligent, and most of the time she was proud of it, but sometimes she wondered what it would feel like to be beautiful, to walk down a street without feeling miserable, without using her scrubs as a shield, as a banner that broadcasted: "Yeah, so I am ugly, but look at me, _I am a doctor!"_

She laughed inwardly as she suddenly realised Severus Snape did the exact same thing with his billowing black robes. But he seemed proud of what he'd become, and Fiddler wasn't so sure about herself sometimes. Not that she showed it, of course not, she had learned soon enough that her best defence against a world that didn't need her and most of the time only bullied her was to become a cocky, scathing sargent, and she'd managed it quite all right. She was respected wide and long at the hospital, and well famous for her biting remarks and withering looks. Her superiors were amused at her stickliness and utterly encouraged it, and nurses and med students deeply regretted if they did the same mistake twice in her presence. Once, she could stand, but twice in a row and heads rolled for sure.

She was not so different from a certain Potions Master, although she didn't know. Nor did he.

But she could also be nice; she never scrimped a compliment when deserved, and she could be faultlessly polite if she chose. Only she seldom did. She had grown tired of being courteus to rude people and she'd chosen to pay back with the same coin, finding that it worked better than she'd expected. And there was also the question of her looks. Fiddler felt the need to break her mirror everytime she looked at herself in it, which was probably why she seldom did it, and she would have given her kingdom for a pretty face sometimes.

She stole a glance from Severus, wondering what type of women did he like, _if _he liked them at all.

_Not your type, lass, be sure of that,_ her mind told her, and she thanked it ironically for its support. It was hard to live with an enemy inside your own skull, but Fiddler was an enduring person and she had learned to put up with it.

  The music had changed to a melody of guitars and drums, and a rather screechy male voice singing in what he surely thought it was a soft voice:
    
    _I kept the right ones out,_
    
    _And let the wrong ones in,_
    
    _Had an angel of mercy to see me through all my sin._
    
    _There were times in my life,_
    
    _When I was goin'  insane,_
    
    _Tryin to walk through the pain…_
    
    _When I lost my grip_
    
    _And I hit the floor_
    
    _Yeah, I thought I could leave, but couldn't get out the door_
    
    _I was so sick and tired_
    
    _Of livin' a lie_
    
    _I was wishin that I_
    
    _Would die_
    
    _It's Amazing_
    
    _With the blink of an eye you finally see the light,_
    
    _It's Amazing_
    
    _When the moment arrives that you know you'll be alright,_
    
    _Yeah, it's Amazing___

_And I'm sayin' a prayer for the desperate hearts tonight._

Fiddler felt goosebumps in her skin, the song creeping up her spine as she'd found it so fitting, and looked up at the clock. She squeaked at the time, she had to get up early in the morning, so she got to her feet, turned the CD player off, and excused herself, wishing Severus a good night. She left him there to his musings, succeeding on not looking back.

    A nearly dead part of him regretted her departure. True, they had barely talked, but it had been a wonderful, peaceful evening indeed. Maybe all the more enjoyable because they had shared it in amiable silence. Being quiet when there was really nothing to be said was a rare quality in a woman.

With a sigh, Severus rose from his chair and, with one last glance at the clock, he left the library himself, feeling as content as a man of his nature could feel. It had been a good zenith for the day, if he didn't include the blasted song. It had more underlying similarities to what he'd been thinking to feel totally comfortable about it.

But, despite his growing nervousness at Fiddler's ability of finding a song for every occasion, thought and feeling, he told himself, as he climbed upstairs, that he enjoyed her quiet company a great deal indeed.

~*~*~*~*~

"Oi! Fiddler!", a tall, bubbling, redhaired woman addressed her from one end to the other of the immaculate Hospital's main Hall. "How are you? Long time no see!"

"Yeah, you know… Been travelling around a bit".

"That's marv! Where did you go to?"

"England".

"Oh, but that is _such_ a coincidence! Did I tell you I am seeing a british someone?"

Fiddler's lip curled up ever so slightly. Anna Willoughby was _always seeing_ someone.

She was a surgical nurse with a story worthy of VC Andrews, in Fiddler's opinion. Her father had been a Knight of the Garter, and a dissolute boozer who had been found dead in one of his many mistresses' bed, wearing a furry cloak, a bronze crown and stiletto heels. His Honourable Wife had buried him discreetely, dismissed the pleading mistresses and inherited a whole load of gambling debts, thus returning to her natal Ireland with her only child, who apparently had inherited her father's attractive features and lusty nature. Fiddler had been her hanky of tears for more years than she could count, and had dragged her out of more emotional troubles than hairs had her head. 

"He comes from a very wealthy family", Anna was just saying. "He's a noble. In fact, there will be a hunting this weekend held at his Manor and I am invited to attend and meet his Family… Oh, Fidd, I am sure he's the One!"

"That's marv", Fiddler mimicked her absent-mindedly. "So what's his name, anyway?"

Anna drew in a deep breath and showered Fiddler with her beloved's full name and titles:

"He is the Most Noble Paul Nicholas Francis Malfoy Ahlendale, Duke of Stafford and Marquis of Kettering; Earl of Stafford; Baron Ahlendale of Beresford, Knight of the Garter, and Knight Grand Cross of the Bath".

"Amen", Fiddler said, not in the least impressed, for only one word in the waterfall of titles had caught her attention: "Malfoy, you said?"

"Oh, yes! Apparently, his mother's Family is quite ancient as well. But they disowned her when she married his father. Something about purity of blood that I didn't quite understand, since the Ahlendale's peerage is worthy of a King… But Paul couldn't care less about his noble blood and he uses his mother's name as well, just to annoy the family… He is such a doll!"

Fiddler quivered, a little nauseated.

"I am sure he is".

"Oh, but Fiddler, I am _so nervous!_ I've never dated a nobleman before! I don't know how I am supposed to act… Oh, I _knew_ I should have payed attention to Mother's etiquette classes!"

Fiddler was tempted to say "Just be yourself", but she thought it better.

"Oh, Fiddler… would you join me this weekend?"

"Me? Do you want to scare them to death at your acquaintances? I am hardly suitable to alternate with nobility! I am sure I'd commit every _faux-pas_ in the book… I'd sit on Queen Victoria's chair or something… Oh, no, that's in Highgrove, isn't it?"

And she laughed at the mere thought. Had she been born a noble, Fiddler mused, her savory scandals would have never left the front pages… _Princess Fiddler gets pulled over for speeding. Princess Fiddler knocks out the officer that pulled her over for speeding. The Honourable Fiddler gets another tattoo. Her Grace goes into med School. Princess Fiddler electrocutes a nurse. Her Grace is actually a Halfbreed Witch. Princess Fiddler wails at the Prime minister and knocks him unconscious. Mystery solved, the Most Noble Fiddler is a Banshee! Lady Fiddler works along with a Wizarding Order to save the world from a psychopatic Dark Lord. The Honourable Fiddler marries the Greasy Git…_

_Fiddler, for Heaven's sake, behave!_

She smiled once again and listened to what Anna was saying.

"You'll be great! Come on, Fidd, you know you can be such a lady if you want to… Besides, you always manage to make swearing sound funny! They'll love you, a good breath of fresh air for all those starched nobles… Come on, say yes, say yes!"

"I couldn't possibly", Fiddler replied, reading through the shower of compliments. "Besides I have people staying over".

"Oh, bring them as well! I am sure Paul won't mind…"

Fiddler wasn't so sure herself but she chose not to argue. After all, _if_ the Most Noble Paul Nicholas Francis Malfoy Ahlendale, Duke of Stafford and Marquis of Kettering; Knight Grand Cross of the Bath, yada, yada, yada, was indeed related to the Malfoys, Fiddler was sure that Moody, Lupin and _Severus_ would like to get the chance to investigate. But Fiddler, despite she wouldn't admit it, had some Royalty protocol within her, and would have naver dared to show up uninvited, so she smiled genially and told Anna:

"Tell you what, Anna, why don't you ask your noble man first and then let me know if he's all right with the idea? I assure you, if he is, we'll be delighted to attend.

Anna found Fiddler's suggestion _marv_,and with one last effusive hug, she left the hall walking like she'd already been crowned Queen. 

Fiddler found hard to concentrate on her work for the remainders of the day. And, for once, she was the first one to leave the parking lot once the shift was over. 

 She got home to find her new adoptive, redhead mother already cooking dinner, and the kids laughing their heads off at Fred and George's jokes. Lupin and Tonks were snogging discreetely they thought in a corner, and Moody was scrubbing his magical eye with a toothbrush. Snape was sittiong on a chair, apart from the others, his hair hiding his face, thin legs carelessly crossed at his ankles, holding a book in his large hands. He hadn't noticed her presence, and Fiddler couldn't help to stare. She didn't know why she found him so alluring, especially sitting like that, but there she had it.

Clearing her throat, she willed her eyes away from him and began informing them about Kerry, the Most Noble Paul Malfoy Ahlendale, and the Hunting.

"She said she'd call me", Fiddler said, sensing more than seeing Severus' gaze on her, "I'm sure we—"

The telephone rang at that very same minute and Fiddler picked it up. It was Anna, to tell her that Paul had thought it was a marv idea for them to join them, and that they will require formal attire to attend to the Closing Ball at Ahlendale Hall. Fiddler thanked her profusely and informed the rest.

"We'll need to go shopping", Hermione observed practically. 

"Well", said Moody. "As much as I would like to attend and honor them with my overwhelming presence, I am afraid I will have to decline. My face is so easily recognizable… And if that chap is in close relation with Malfoy…", his very scarred face was distorted by a smile.

"We could say the same about me, then", Severus said, and Fiddler's heart sunk, as she had wanted him to come along.

"I am terrified of horses", Molly confessed blushing.

"Malfoy could recognize me as well", Arthur added.

"Oh, don't be such a wuss, dad", George said.

"Yeah, if we keep this up, we can say he could recognize us all", George supported his twin.

"Come on, think of it", Ron intervened, "Fiddler's friends with this Anna lassy, isn't her? And we're her friends as well, visiting her. Nothing more natural than her bringing us along… After all, the Death Eaters don't know where Fiddler lives and the house's Unplottable anyway…"

"So was Grimmauld Place", Harry reminded him.

"Um… Right. Forgot about that".

"So, are you coming or not?", Ginny asked.

"We definitely are!", Fred and George said.

"And us", Ginny chimed in, pointin at Ron, Hermione, Harry and her.

"Oh, I am going as well!", Tonks exclaimed happily. "Are you, Remus?"

He eyed her with the sort of look reserved for people in love and denied quietly. Fiddler felt a pang of envy and her smile tensed on her face. She looked away quickly, not even daring to put her eyes on Severus. She was going to say it was settled then, when her heart began racing frantically out of no apparent reason.

"I will go as well", she heard Severus' voice say from his corner.

It had sounded like he'd just offered an apprenticeship to Harry, but his eyes met Fiddler's fractionatelly, and for her it was as if time suddenly had stopped.  She felt her lips go dry and she moistened with helf tongue. She probably just imagined it, but she thought she'd seen Severus' glittering eyes follow her action with a hungry sort of expression.

Fiddler cleared her throat yet again and managed to say:

"It's settled then".

"Well then", approved Tonks. "Now, where do we get some decent riding suits?"

**A/N.**

TBC, please R & R!!!!!

Thanx a lot to my kind beta Ian for his BRILLIANT thoughts!!!

Disclaimer: All characters and HP universe belong to J.K. Rowling, except for the ones you don't recognize. The plot as well is mine and solely mine!! No profit is being made!!!!


	10. Bringing Down the Horse

Chapter 10 

**Bringing Down the Horse**

Fiddler woke up early and, after taking a quick shower, she eased into her long forgotten riding attire. It was black in color, with a neckcloth made of her adoptive mother's family Tartan, matching the cuffs and the hem of her beret.  She looked at her leather boots, that Molly had insisted on polishing, and put them on. She then grabbed the suitcase where she had carefully packed the dress she'd wear for the ball, and she left her room with not even a glance at her reflection.

She had always said she was allergic to mirrors.

She heard a noise when going downstairs, as if someone had drawn in a deep breath, but she looked everywhere and saw no one, so she met the others at the main door, all of them carrying bags and wearing long jackets and dark trousers, except for Tonks and Ginny, that brought the cheery touch by wearing similar vibrant crimson outfits.

"Oooooooh!", Fred said mockingly. "So our dear Banshee knows how to ride!"

They all burst into hearty cackles, and Ron was suicidal enough to add:

"I am sure Snape will be thrilled when he finds out!"

"RONALD WEASLEY!", Fiddler bellowed, blushing horribly, and she nearly fell over when she heard Severus' deep voice ask dangerously:

"And why, Mr. Weasley, would I find Miss Greene's horseriding skills enthralling?"

"Oh—Oh—Um—I—OH—", Ron stammered, as red as his hair.

"Severus, ignore him", Fiddler said swiftly, far more calmly than she actually felt. "Let's go, we'll be late".

And she opened the door to head for the garage.

"You know", Fiddler heard Hermione tell Ginny. "I never noticed before, but don't you think Professor Snape and Fiddler look alike?"

"Yeah… you're right!",  Ginny exclaimed. "Maybe it's the outfit…"

Fiddler eyed Severus out of the corner of her eye. Did they? 

Well, maybe the black, straight hair and the milk white skin bore them resemblance, and now that they were dressed in similar attires that similarity was only enhanced. And maybe they did have some behaviors, stances and manners in common. She sighed and willed the thought away. 

They were alike. And so what?

Somehow, the kids and Tonks managed to leave Severus stuck with Fiddler in the front seat, and Fiddler found his nearness almost unbearable.

_For crying out loud, Fiddler, get a sodding grip!_

She sped up through fields of green grass and golden wheat, enjoying the scent of fresh air and musky clovers, trying not to think of the man beside her. But _they_ weren't making things any easier. Tonks was talking from her elbows about her wonderful Lupin, and Harry and Ginny were glued to each other by the lips. Fiddler could see them through the mirror, and she felt her mouth opening of its own accord.

"Oi!", it said. "Unglue yourselves _now!"_

Fred, George, Hermione and Ron burst into laughter, and elbowed the kissing couple.

"Sorry, Mum…", Ginny said mischeviously, but blushed all the same.

"Awww", Tonks interceded. "C'mon, Fidd, give them a break…"

"No", she said, mockingly stern. "I am a bitter bitch and I won't have people kissing in front of me".

Severus suddenly wondered how serious could she be underneath her scornful statement.

"You are worst than I am", he said, silkily.

Ron and Harry looked at each other, remembering that time at Yule Ball when they'd seen him blasting rosebushes with his wand, docking points from snogging students, and held back a cackle. But it was in vain, because Fiddler looked at him and said:

"Severus? Bite me", with such an inflection that none of them could help to laugh, half in amusement, half in sheer shock at Fiddler's recklessness.

Severus himself was at a loss of words. He stared at her trying to look scathing, but deep down he knew he was failing, all the more when he eavesdropped Ronald's whisper to either Fred or George:

"I bet the greasy git wouldn't mind to bite her in certain places…"

He stiffened repressively. What was _that_ all about? But he didn't try to dig in further, because he knew he could expect everything from Potter and the Jolly Weasleys.

Everything but insightfulness, his mind reminded him.

_Bollocks. They are not reading into anything._

They were reaching a beautiful paved road, bordered with marble statues that ended in a gate with a coat of arms engraved in crimson granite. The gate opened to let them in, and Fiddler circled a bower at the end of which a ceremonious valet wearing a white wig was waiting for them. They stepped out of the van and Fiddler handed the valet the keys.

They were issued inside the manor and guided amongst richly decorated corridors to the atrium, where quite a bunch of people on horseback were already waiting and buzzing excitedly. Fiddler glanced around to locate Anna, and found her soon enough, stunning in her creamy, long-skirted riding outfit, next to a black haired man with incredibly red lips and pale skin. The Most Honorable Paul Nicholas Francis Malfoy Ahlendale and his titles, presumably.

Fiddler watched Anna elbow him, and the nobleman exclaimed pompously:

"Welcome! Welcome to my humble home!"

He walked regally towards them, arm in arm with Anna, and stopped to bow and kiss the females' hands. Fiddler stifled a chuckle when he bowed at her twice and said:

"Ah! The famous doctor Greene! Anna speaks most highly of you".

Anna laughed delightedly as Fiddler raised an eyebrow unwillingly and said, gracefully polite:

"Oh, I am sure, Your Grace".

"Somehow I always pictured you different, though", Lord Paul continued. "Maybe older and… Ugly looking?", his eyes glittered mischeviously and the atmosphere became a little tense. Anna looked at her not-yet fiancé grudgingly, and Fiddler was surprised when she noticed Severus' expression was more ill-natured than ever.

"Oh, you were right in one, then, Mylord", she said, evenly.

The Most Noble Paul Malfoy Ahlendale seemed to have lost his ability to reply. He bowed once again and then straightened up and, offering his arm to Anna, he said:

"Shall I lead you to the horses, then?"

They reached the stables, and Lord Paul bid them to pick their horses. They did so shyly, except for Fiddler, whose eye had been caught by a superb black friessian that was walking nervously around its lumberyard. She walked towards it resolutely.

"Fiddler, my lass, I would not advice you to pick _High Admiral…_ We have not tamed him yet…"

And true enough, the horse was neighing fretfully and he didn't even had a saddle, but Fiddler didn't falter.

"Don't worry, Your Grace, I have a thing with animals".

She stepped into the lumberyard and walked slowly until she reached the animal, then coming to a stop. The buzzing around them diminished and they all turned to see her.

"Hello, _High Admiral",_ Fiddler said. She extended her left hand and let the horse sniff at it. Slowly, his muscles relaxed and he bowed his head.

"Will you let me ride you?", she said, and suddenly wanted to laugh as she picked up the double entendre. Thank God the twins weren't near her. The horse neighed again and snorted, as if agreeing, so Fiddler asked for a saddle and put it on the horse herself.

"Well, Fiddler, I am afraid I will have to fire my horsemen!", Lord Paul exclaimed cheerfully, and the guests all laughed at the wits of their host.

Soon enough, the fox was released, the hounds, incited, and they were all following the horn through the fields and woods. They split into groups and the kids, under Tonks' lead, drifted apart, leaving Severus and Fiddler alone, horses slowly walking side by side as their riders talked. Severus noticed she wasn't carrying a fowling rifle and asked about it.

"Oh, I wouldn't kill the fox", she said as if the mere thought pained her. "I enjoy the ride and costumes, but I don't kill animals", her tone broke to no argument. "Besides", she added, "I am a lousy shooter".

Severus eyed her with his fathomless expression but said nothing. He had the impression that he had just managed to break down her walls of mystery a bit to glance within.

And he had liked it.

They rode amiably, discussing various topics, until he asked her how had she managed to bring down the horse.

"I don't know, really", she confessed. "I guess animals just like me…" _At least someone does,_ her mind added but didn't say out loud. "I actually did it with your wolf as well… _That_ day".

"Did you? Well then, I must bow at your bravery. Nyx trusts no one but me".

"Nyx?", Fiddler smiled. "How fitting. Well, she might have sensed I was trying to help you… She seemed very anguished at the sight of you. Whatever happened, by the way?"

Severus sighed. He looked at her hands, holding the reins loosely, and he noted two things. One, she didn't have a whip either, but he was sure that, if he asked, he'd get a "I don't whip animals" for an answer; besides, the second thing was unsettling enough to erase that thought away. She still bore the faint mark of his fingers, visible despite the tartan cuffs.

He swallowed.

"Do you still have it?", he asked.

They were so close together that he could have reached out and touch her hand, but he carefully avoided doing so. Fiddler looked down, and oddly enough, she smiled.

"Yeah…", she said. "I'm guessing there was some magic involved in it, since it was then when I saw—", she shut up abruptly.

"Yes?"

She entertained the thought of saying "Nothing", but instead, she said:

"A graveyard of dreams".

Severus tensed, but inquired no further. 

He didn't dare to.

"You were going to tell me what happened", she reminded him.

"I was… Summoned by the Dark Lord", Severus said stiffly. "I think he is beginning to suspect me of deceit. My guess is I was followed on my way back, as you know you cannot Apparate inside Hogwarts grounds… What I cannot fathom is what is it that they wanted of me".

"Maybe they wanted to find out how to Unplot Grimmauld Place".

Severus looked at her questioningly.

"Well, I am sure you're not the only Occlumens in England… And I'm guessing that, if you're unconscious, it would only make it easier to extract the information out of your mind…"

Severus looked at her, half sneering, half admiring.

"But it is impossible to find out, if Dumbledore does not tell them himself. He is the Secret Keeper".

"Well, but they found it anyway, so, I assume they used a dark spell or whatever to extricate the information out of you. After all, _you knew _where the House was as well".

Severus nodded silently. He suddenly realised the Hunting had been forgotten, and he could not really say he regretted it.

Fiddler was lost in thought, eyes fixed on nothing in particular, as she swayed gently with the horse's movements. Her hair, gathered in her usual braid, shone blue in the middle of her back. He'd always thought of black as a rather cruel color, that would suit perfectly his tendence to tyranny and his gloomy personality, but watching all that darkness around her in the middle of so much green suddenly made him want to revise that opinion. Onix hair, dark outfit, black horse…

_Well, that horse is not the only obscure thing she brought down… is it?_

He straightened his back and try to ignore the thought, but he couldn't help the unnerving shiver that crept up his spine as he heard _her_ voice inside _his _head:

_But all of this horses,_

_That you chase around,_

_In the end they are the ones_

_That always bring you down,_

_In this Invisible City,_

_Where no one sees nothing,_

_We're touching faces in the dark, _

_Feeling pretty is so hard…_

He looked at her, transfixed, but she didn't seem to realise their connection. She was humming softly what Severus assumed was the tune for the song he was also hearing, totally oblivious to her surroundings. He could see a gathering of people not far away from where Fiddler and himself were.

A shot was heard, and Fiddler jerked out of her reverie. Severus watched her go taut. He opened his mouth to speak, but she didn't give him the time, as she suddenly grabbed his own reins and dug her heals on _High Admiral's_ sides, dragging his own horse on tow. He felt a buzzing something pass next to his head, making his hair fly, and he suddenly understood.

"Go, _High Admiral,_ go, go, GO!", she said urgently as they galloped madly, Fiddler handling both horses with unexpected dexterity. They obeyed her without doubting it, allowing Severus to look back and catch a glance of a hooded figure holding a professional hunter. Fiddler turned without warning, nearly tumbling him down of his horse, but he managed to stay on it, and soon enough they'd reached  the back of a hill, where she stopped both animals and turned to look at him.

"What—", he began, but three more shots were heard, nearer this time, and then, the unmistakable screams of a woman torn the air.

"It's Anna", Fiddler said.

"Do you think she is hurt?"

Fiddler looked at him, and he was startled at the expression of those greenish blue eyes. She shook her head slowly and he noticed she was paler than usual. Her beret had flown away and soft looking whisps of hair framed her face rather alluringly.

Severus swallowed hard.

"No…", he heard her say. "My guess is the proud Purebloods just killed one of their members because he dared to love a Muggle".

**A/N.**

TBC, please R & R!

As always, thanks to Ian for his brilliant thoughts and beta reading!

Disclaimer: All characters and HP universe belong to J.K. Rowling, except for the ones you don't recognize. The plot as well is mine and solely mine!! No profit is being made!!!!


	11. Swanheart

Chapter 11 

**Swanheart.**

"Fiddler! Fiddler, come here, _please!"_

Anna's urgent cry floated in the wind. Severus looked at Fiddler with undisguised concern. It was then when he realised he was actually worried about _her_ safety, and he found the thought both startling and infuriating.

"I must go", Fiddler said resolutely. "In this cases, the doctor becomes the Queen of the Night".

There was a note of undeniable mocking pride in her voice, and Severus understood the underlying meaning. She incited the horse and galloped deftly towards where she supposed Anna was. After two seconds of thought, Severus followed her.

They reached a clearing, where an obviously injured man lay, a bunch of people surrounding him, and Anna Willoughby crouched at his side. Her riding skirt was smeared in blood, and she was crying hysterically.

"Fiddler, save him, _save him_, please… Save him, don't let him die, please, please, _please…"_

"Anna, you need to calm down. Hysterics won't solve a thing. Now, shut up and let me see to him", Fiddler spoke soothingly, but with undeniable authority. Doctor Greene at her utmost.

"People, make way", she ordered curtly. "Make way, please. I need to check on the patient".

The gathering or aristocratic nosies moved away submissively, except for a blonde man in his mid thirties who remained stubbornly kneeled next to Lord Paul.

"Sir, I must ask you to move away, please".

 Fiddler was already on her knees as well, checking for a pulse. As she didn't find one, she checked on his pupils. Severus heard her tut.

"I will not say it another time, Sir", her voice was impatient now. "MOVE.OVER".

He looked at her snidely.

"Do you know who I am?"

"No, Sir, and I don't give a damn. Move over _now"._

Severus observerd amazed as the stubborn individual rose majestically, eyed her disdainfully, but stepped backwards all the same.

Fiddler, in the meantime, had unbuttoned Lord Paul's jacket and shirt, and was looking at three shot wounds in his chest. She turned him over and examined the entering marks, shaking her head slightly. He had yet another shot in the nape of his neck, but there was no exit wound. She pressed her fingers to the man's neck and sighed. She looked at her watch.

"There's nothing that can be done. Lord Paul is dead".

Anna's screams nearly caused Severus to become deaf. Fiddler got to her feet and Anna threw herself at her, sobbing helplessly, as Fiddler did her best to soothe her.

"We need to call the Police", Fiddler said. "And we must not move the body".

"But we cannot leave him here!", Anna wailed.

"We must not alter the crime scene", Fiddler explained. "Someone needs to guard him until the Police arrives…"

The nosies looked at one another, trying to bestow the responsibility upon someone else but themselves. Fiddler sighed exasperated.

"Fine. I'll do it, then. You, Important Fellow, please lead Miss Willoughby and the rest of you back into the Manor, and _make sure_ to call the Police".

The blonde man looked at her outraged, but said nothing as he helped Anna back onto her horse, and he motioned the crowd on horseback to follow him, which they reluctantly did.

"I shall stay with you", Severus offered smoothly.

She smiled at him and went back on her knees, crawling around the dead man in search of Merlin knew what.

"Here's one…", she mumbled, and producing a small stenography pad from a pocket, she ripped off a sheet and placed it next to a little shining something.  

"A shotgun shell", she said, as if that explained everything. Taking in Severus' puzzled expression, she added: "Um… that would be a discharged bullet. Policial evidence". 

"Ah".

She ripped off two more sheets from her pad and placed then next to the other shotgun shells as she found them, and crept on all fours placing some other sheets following no apparent pattern. She got to her feet and tiptoed around the corpse and put three sheets to his chest. She then sat cross-legged about three feet away from the dead man.

"Well, pretty much all we can do for now", she said, looking up at Severus". "I invite you to sit down, it might take a while and you won't grow any taller".

Severus looked at her with a long-suffering expression, trying to decide if she was just mocking him or teasing him. He gave up the effort and sat next to her, managing to keep his dignity intact.

"What did you just do?", he asked, curious despite himself.

"Just some markings for the coroner".

"Oh?"

"Yes, the wounds, whether entering or exit, the shotgun shells, their distance from the body, the corpse's position… It will be helpful for the investigation. I altered a bit the crime scene by checking on him and walking around, but that had to be done. I tried to keep it down to just me, but that damned stubborn wouldn't move for the life of him…"

Severus finally understood her insistence, and the meaning of the sheets that didn't follow any pattern in particular nor did they pointed out a shell.

"They mark footprints, do they not?"

"Yeah. Footprints, the place where Anna was, and the places I myself altered. But I've left a good distance ratio between the body and ourselves now, and we're sitting on the opposite direction to the presumed origin of the shots, so I hope it won't be misleading…"

Severus looked at her, impressed against his will. It occurred to him out of the blue that Fiddler could be a formidable enemy. 

"Who d'you reckon shot him?", she asked, breaking the silence. "Do wizards know how to use firearms?"

"I would not know for certain. I, for one, do not".

"Do you reckon Lucius Malfoy does?"

"He despises all Muggle things. I would say he does not".

Fiddler raised her eyebrow.

"Mmmm… You'd be surprised. Oh, look, they're coming".

She got to her feet hastily and Severus watched her go and meet the approaching people. She introduced herself and soon she was lost in complicated explanation of probable cause of death, methods and post mortem examinations and procedures she'd conducted to ensure the reliability of the crime scene, and although Severus didn't understand a word, he could tell the formal-looking people was impressed at her efficience, just by the way they thanked her and asked her for her contact information, for the Hearing.  
  


They all went through official interrogations led by Colonel Arthur O'Connell, active member of _An Garda Síochána_ and honorary member of IPA, section Ireland, much to Severus's dismay, who definitely wasn't used to being interrogated by _anyone._ The kids found it hilarious and enjoyed the experience thoroughly, despite Moody's hurried gathering to instruct them harshly into the hastily thought reasons to explain their presence in Elvenpath, paranoia getting the best of him, to Fred and George's infinite amusement.

Severus accompanied Fiddler to court, even though he wondered why was he doing so. She had been requested to attend as the medical doctor who had certified Lord Paul's death and heard her declaration marvelling inwardly at her matter-of-fact statements and tranquil observations. 

The veredict had been accidental homicide commited by person or persons unknown, and not even one of the few that knew about it, and probably for the best, had mentioned the fact that Lord Paul descended from a wizarding family.

There had been no signs of Malfoy whatsoever, but Severus knew better. He knew Lord Paul's murder had had nothing to do with him intending to marry a Muggle. Malfoy had learned somehow the Order of the Phoenix was around, and he had issued a warning.

Death Eaters believed in the effectiveness of killing their own flesh and blood, Severus thought bitterly.

So, now, all they could do was wait.

~*~

Severus couldn't sleep. He didn't think it had anything to do with the events of the previous days, although trying to no end. And he couldn't exactly fathom the absence of blissful rest when he so badly needed it. 

After spending an annoying amount of time turning around on the bed, Severus finally had enough and literally jumping out of it he paced out of his rooms with the firm intention of going out to walk himself to exhaustion and _then _come back to get some decent sleep. But as he went down the stairs, he was distracted by a muffled sound coming out from the double wooden door that lead to the sitting room.

It was the piano.

Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't have spared it a second thought, but it was three o'clock in the morning and he was curious as to who could the also sleepless pianist be. He walked slowly as he knew how towards the door, trying to identify the stifled melody. He held out a hand and opened the door inch by inch, just enough to slip inside the room, then closing it behind him.

It was Fiddler.

He nodded absently. A part of him had known all along. He reluctantly admired the way her smooth cascade of hair shimmered blue with the dim light of a candlestick, and noticed she was wearing her usual loose surgery scrub. She was sitting at the piano with her back turned to Severus, as her fingers glided through the white keys. 

Some part of Severus' usually snarling brain thought the image before him was strangely alluring; he leaned his back on the door behind him, oddly relaxed by the music.

But then she started to sing.

All those beautiful people,  
I want to have them all.  
All those porcelain models,  
If only I could make them fall

She had a wonderful voice, at odds with her habitual biting, hoarse tone. And although she was keeping it low, Severus knew a properly trained voice when he heard one; he had before him one incredibly talented singer indeed.

And not even once had she mentioned it.

_Be my heart a well of love  
Flowing free so far above  
  
A wintry eve,  
Once upon a tale;  
An Ugly Duckling,  
Lost in a verse,  
Of a sparrow's carol  
Dreaming the stars._

_  
Be my heart a well of love  
Flowing free so far above  
  
In my world  
Love is for poets;  
Never the famous balcony scene…  
Just a dying faith  
On the Heaven's gate_

_  
_Her voice had risen a little. Suddenly, Severus thought she knew he was right behind her and that she was singing just for him to hear. Something deep within him gritted in almost forgotten empathy at the undeniable pain that made that wonderful voice tremble.

He heard her tear dulcet notes from the piano, not any less bloodcurdling than her voice, and then she concluded the song, rising her voice to soprano heights, causing a tingle creep up Severus' spine.

_  
Crystal pond awaits the lorn!  
Tonight another morn for the lonely one is born_…_  
  
 _

 She kept the piano going for a bit, and then she bowed her head. He half expected her to sigh or something of the sort, but what she actually did utterly stratled him: she snorted snidely and closed the piano shut.

"Lonely one, indeed", she said softly, but bitterly all the same. And then she did sigh and added out loud: "You know, it's at times like these when I'd really love to have someone to lean on".

Severus' heart skipped a beat. So she _had _noticed his presence. He opened his mouth to speak but his ability at retorting seemed to have deserted him. He stood frozen to the spot for what it seemed forever, until he heard her soft laughter.

"Yes, I know I have you, but you're not big enough to hold me". Severus heard the sound of a kiss being pressed and he thought: _'Of course. The dog'._

And he was surprised at the sullenness of that reflection. 

"Come on, Triskelion, old boy. Let's go to bed".

Severus reacted a second too late.

"Well, hello, Severus", she said, walking towards the door and coming to a halt in front of him. "Been here too long?"

He tried to wrap himself in the malicious demeanor he was famous for, but all he could manage was a formal stiffness.

"My apologies, Fiddler", he blurted out. "I was driven inside by the sound of your music. Did you compose it yourself?"

"No… It's a song by Nightwish, a Finnish group I like a lot, actually. It's called _Swanheart_…", a dreamy smile lit her face but she quickly noticed and adjusted her features to her usual stern expression. 

"Ah".

They stared at each other for quite a while. They each knew their own longings, but damned be them if they'd admit them even to themselves. So what they did instead was what they both did best: challenge. 

Countless time passed, none of them moving, nor taking their gaze from the other's eyes; finally Severus gave into instinct and reached a hand to stroke her hair. She flinched away immediately and held the dog in her arms to her chest.

"Please don't do that", she whispered, and he was startled at the brightness of unshed tears in her eyes. He lowered his hand and stepped back away.

"Why not?", he asked softly.

She positively glared at him then.

"I don't like people to make fun of me. I am _not_ a drat buffoon to be laughed at".  And without another word, she stepped furiously out of the room, leaving Severus behind, as if glued to the spot.

But he recovered quickly and strode after her, finally reaching her half way up the stairs.

"What was that supposed to mean?", he asked, taking hold of her by one of her shoulders.

Fiddler turned around to face him, slowly, stiffly.

"I know you heard what I said down there", she replied. "And you're not stupid, I am sure you understood what I was singing. And then you suddenly feel like stroking my hair?", she spat her question bitterly. "Do I look like I was born yesterday?" 

Severus blinked at her in utter nonplussement.

"What? I don't…"

"Oh, spare me", she snapped. "DO spare me. I've heard what the kids say about you, but I refuse to believe you're _that _thick".

Under normal circumstances, absolutely no one who'd had the gall of addressing him like that would have lived to tell the tale, but Fiddler had talked to him that way not once but a million times and, somehow, Severus had put up with it.

"I didn't mean to intrude", he retreated. "But the music was truly beautiful and… Why didn't you mention you could sing like that?"

"As if someone cared", was the bitter response.

Severus was at a loss for words. He'd thought '_I care'_, but he knew he couldn't bring himself to say it.

"You have a beautiful voice", was what he said instead.

She didn't dropped her military pose, nor did she relax one bit, or even smiled; but she said 'thank you', and took a hesitant step forward.

"How long did you study?", he inquired, for it was obvious she had. 

"Nearly six years. Mother felt my screeching should be put to an useful end, so she decided to train it. She figured it would be such an entertainment for the guests!"

"But it did not turn to be that way".

"No. I refuse to sing in public".

"Why is that?"

Fiddler glanced up an down the stairs before she spoke again.

"I guess if we're having this conversation we might as well go to a more comfortable location".

Severus nodded, his lip twitching up ever so slightly. She bent to put the dog on the floor. "Go on, Triskelion, find yourself a sofa and nap", then she turned to him and added: "Care for some tea?"

"Certainly", he agreed, and he followed her downstairs, marveling at the way her hair swayed behind her.

They entered the kitchen and he watched her roaming about in search of the teapot, kettle, cups, napkins and saucers.

"I wager you find all this rather odd", she said from inside the cupboard.

"What do you mean?"

Fiddler emerged carrying a silver tray with a beautifully decorated china and added:

"Well, you must be used to… you know, snap your fingers and have the tea to make itself, don't you?", she poured some water in the kettle and put it to the fire.

Severus smiled against his will.

"Most wizards are, I grant you. I, on the other hand, prefer to have my tea handmade".

"Oh, right. I forgot you are a Potions Master", she said, grabbing a chair and sitting in front of him.

"And what does that have to do with anything?"

"You don't believe in foolish wandwaving, do you? Silly incantations?", her eyes twinkled merrily and Severus found himself mirroring her smile.

"Who told you that?"

"Oh, the kids told me all about your classes and your welcoming speech. Mind you, I even pitied poor Neville!"

Severus joined her chuckles.

"This from the woman who nearly gave Sonia an electric shock for not having those drat vitals", he retorted.

Her chortles stopped abruptly.

"How did you know that?"

"I dreamt of it. Did the Headmaster not tell you?"

"Well, yes, he— he did, but he never mentioned you dreamt of things that actually happened".

"I did. For over a month".

"A _month?"_, she seemed shocked now. "Mind, that must have been hard to endure".

Severus was beginning to feel unease at the way she had of putting herself down. It reminded him too much of himself at his worst.

"Why do you say that?"

"Well", she responded lightly. "Imagine that, having to face _me_ in each and everyone of your dreams for a whole month. It's not what I would call sweet dreams". 

"I've had worst", Severus said harshly.

"Yes… I imagine so.  But still." She was silent for a bit as if considering whether or not to ask something else. She finally made up her mind for she added: "And do you remember many of them?"

Severus knew for sure he wouldn't be able to say "all of them", without blushing, so he pulled up his usual scowl and said:

"Some of them, but, as I recall, we were not discussing that matter, miss Greene".

"Oh, weren't we?", Fiddler retorted. "Why, stupid me, where did I get _that _idea? And drop the 'Miss Greene' thing, I was never your student, and I told you, I only make the nurses to address me by surname".

None of them spoke for a while, but then she dug in:

"So what _were_ we discussing, anyway?"

"Ah, yes. The reason why you will not sing in public… _Fiddler._"

"Oh, that. Well, simply because I am too damned stickly, and I hate being laughed at. So I just do in front of people what I know I do right".

"Which is?"

"Medicine, of course. And sometimes, not even that".

Severus opened his mouth to speak, but she beated him to it.

"Tea is ready", she hastily got to her feet to get the kettle. "Sugar? Milk?"

"Plain, thank you", Severus replied a little numbly.

"All right, then", she said, but she still opened what she called the "fridge", to seize a couple of lemons.

"If you don't mind…"

Severus made a hand gesture that said _'be my guest'_, and observed silently as she added lemon juice and sugar to her own cup. Severus took a sip and frowned slightly.

"This tea tastes odd", he stated.

"I didn't poison it, if that's what you're implying".

"No… I mean… Odd as in exotic. Never had one like this before, not that I recall".

"Oh, well, you wouldn't", she said, blushing. "You see, it wasn't meant to happen, but the truth is I sort of got all of my tea leaves mixed up in one pot. One of those kitchen accidents… Anyway, I'm guessing you have around five different types of leaves there", she finished, pointing at his cup.

"That should explain it", Severus said, taking another sip.

"If you don't like it, you can throw it away, I don't mind".

"It's good", he replied, somewhat dryly.

"Oh, all right then. Just checking".

She remained silent, inspecting her cup and moistening her lips with her tongue. She did that a lot ,and Severus pondered it was a nervous gesture of hers rather than a seductive one. Well, his rational mind thought that, all right, but the rest of him… He followed the movement of her tongue and swallowed hard, looking away immediately.

"So when did you get home?", he asked after a moment.

"Around midnight, Mum, why?", she replied, mockingly. Severus couldn't help but grin. Tough, this one, he thought.

"Just curious. You do seem tired", he said, smoothly.

"Oh, I give you that one. Everybody decided to die today. It was exhausting".

Severus' hand froze in mid air from picking his teacup. It was not the first time he had felt like he was back on the Dark Revels when he talked with her, for she spoke so mindlessly about death. Sometimes she reminded him of— 

_She's NOTHING_ _like her, Severus_, he told himself repressively.

But deep down, he knew she was. In a way. 

They both were intrinsically cruel women.

But…

_Stop it, will you? Let it go._

"What do you mean?", he heard himself ask.

"Exactly that", she stated. "We had eight RIPs today. It was a record".

"RIPs? Is that how you refer at them?"

"Yeah, RIPs, passers… It's medical slang", she smiled lightly and continued. "Anyway, eight patients died today and they weren't supposed to".

"You felt life still within them".

"Yeah, I…", she looked at him in surprise, and then comprehension dawned. "Oh… right. You dreamt of it. So you could read my mind and all, could you?".

"Only in my dreams", he replied tersely. "In real life, that seems to be your privilege".

"Oh, drop it. I'm no mind reader. I just… Interpret mind's strongest feelings".

"A natural Legilimens. The Dark Lord should fear you".

"Ha!", she snorted. "Anyway, back to our subject, yes, I felt life within them. You see, they _were not_ terminally ill and yet their lives slowly… extinguished, no matter what we did".

A thought stirred in the back of Severus' mind. Not a pleasant one, by the way.

_Talking of the devil…_

"Did you notice something strange?"

"Not that I could point out right now… They didn't seem to have been hit by an Unforgivable, though".

Severus raised an eyebrow, and she, of course, interpreted it as a challenge to defend her theory.

"Well, definitely not _Avada Kedavra_, because that one kills on the spot, doesn't it? So that's one down" She ticked it off with her fingers. "_Cruciatus_, most definitely not, they would have had such an adrenergic discharge… And none of them did. Nor did they have post ictal status, either", she added, more to herself than anything else.

"Care to explain?"

"Oh, sorry. Um… Yeah. Adrenergic Discharge is a reaction of the body to an aggression or pain, it includes several manifestations, such as increase of the heartbeat rate, mydriasis… Enlarged pupils", she clarified, watching his puzzled expression. "Also, there is an increase of blood sugar, and blood pressure, and there is piloerection … Goosebumps, that is… See, it's the instinctive preparation to strike back. All animals have it, it is controlled by the Nervous Sympathetic System".

"Of course. I have read of such manifestations. There's a potions group that enhance them".

"We call them sympathetic mimickers", she said. "We have our lot of drugs to do that, too.  Anyway, I am sure that with the amount of pain involved in _Cruciatus_, the person under it would definitely have adrenetic discharge." 

Severus nodded politely, as another part of his mind wondered when was the last time he'd had such an interesting conversation, and with a young woman of all people.

He couldn't remember. 

"And what about post ictal state?"

"Oh, that would be a state of drowsiness, confussion and lethargy following a seizure. Harry told me what _Cruciatus _feels like and I… well, I guess you can say I saw it in his mind; and yes, it's sort of a very painful, generalized seizure".

Severus nodded again. Oh, it was. He could bear witness of it. He rubbed his left arm absently and Fiddler inquired:

"You've been under it, haven't you?"

"Yes", he said grudginly. He didn't want her pity. But once again, she surprised him.

"And? Were you dazed afterwards?"

"Yes… until I learned to… go through it".

"There you go then", she said smugly.

"What?"

"Well, Dumbledore told me you're a powerful wizard", she said and he blushed violently. "And even you were dazed. All the more for those Muggles to be, since I am sure they can't just _go through Cruciatus"._

"You certainly have a point there, Fiddler", Severus said, amazed against his will.

"And they _weren't_, so it was definitely not _Cruciatus, if_ it was anything at all. Now, as for _Imperius…_ Well… that's a possibility… Force them into drinking it… But it is only too subtle… Not the sort of thing they'd gloat about…"

"You've lost me", Severus said.

"Hold on… Yes, it could definitely be… That would explain the smell all right… Wait just one second!", she jumped off her chair and headed for the door, leaving Severus staring at his cup of warm tea. 

She didn't give him time to start a train of thought, for she emerged back on the kitchen carrying a creased white coat in her arms. She all but tossed it to him and commanded:

"Smell it".

Concealing his surprise as usual, Severus did as he was told. An earthy scent filled his nostrils, nothing overwhelming like sweetened flowers, but something more like the smell of the forest after a healthy storm. He closed his eyes unwillingly and inhaled, more deeply this time. 

"Severus? You still there?", he heard Fiddler ask.

"Yes, I… Yes". He lowered the coat and tried to meet her gaze but could not. 

"Well? What did you smell?"

"I… Nothing… Nothing more than… the usual, I am afraid", he replied, trying to hide his vicious blush from her, but the treacherous kitchen's lights only brought it out.

"Oh… well. Pity. I thought you could identify it… Being a Potions Master and all. I am _sure_ it is a drat plant, but I can't place it". 

Severus tried again, willing his senses to not notice the rainy scent of the coat's owner. And yes, after a moment, there it was, a faint odor, sweeter than the predominant one, and, as he recalled, lethal.

His heart sunk.

_Speaking of the devil indeed._

_"Prunus dulcis", _he said, softly.

"Of course! Sweet almonds… Cyanide".

"A poison. You are right. Too subtle for a Death Eater", Severus agreed, shivering at the memory of the only Death Eater subtle enough to brew that particular potion… Even more subtle than he was. He swallowed hard and willed the memory away. "Most of them gloat in bloodshed and wriths of pain. They do not use poisons. That's… what _I_ used".

_You… And Wynn, Severus. Do not forget that,_ he told himself.

"Merciful", she said, not wincing in the least at his implied murders.

_She's cruel_, he thought, and not for the first time either.

"But not with cyanide, though", she added. "It gives a painful death, that one".

"How do you know?"

"Oh, I did a small research on toxicology", she said, dismissively. "I've always been interested in poisons. Dad used to call me Lucrece". She gifted him with that genial smile of hers and Severus winced. _Who was this woman?_

_So much like her…_

_NO!_

But she was, she _was,_ and they were both blending in Severus' mind, and he suddenly wanted Fiddler, wanted them both, because there was a time when he had loved _her_ as well, before the hate became too intense, before she did what she'd done…

_Would Fiddler do it as well?_

And as much as he tried to deny it, a part of his brain knew she was cruel enough to do something like that for the sake of her beliefs. But something like _that…_ Would Fiddler dare to do something like it?

_The song,_ he thought incoherently._ The song… Fiddler has got emotions in her that Wynn never had. That could save her…_

And he shivered inwardly as the thought occurred to him that, if Fiddler thought of herself as the ugly duckling, Wynn had been the swan indeed.

He looked up at her, and swallowed yet again as he noticed she was eyeing him critically.

"Did you know in the real story the swans killed the duckling?", she said, and her tone was harsh.

"What?", she had read his mind again.

"Oh, it's a Muggle tale, all right, but you as a man who's read a lot, I am sure you're familiar with it." 

Numbly, Severus nodded.

"Well, Hans Christian Andersen altered it to make it suitable for children,  but the popular story told that the Duckling was cast away by the other ducks because he was too ugly and different to be worthy of their company", her voice sounded as if she knew how that felt like all too well. "So he found the swans. But they didn't embrace him and called him the most beautiful among them, of course they didn't", again that bitterness. "No, they killed him because, even though he looked like a swan, he still acted like a duck".

Severus looked at her expressionless, trying to hide his thoughts from her.

_You were wrong, Severus. She might remind you of Wynn, but deep down she is sheer you._

"Yeah, that's the bane of ugly ducks", Fiddler said as she was used to it by now. "Anyway, it is a pity that I didn't get to perform an autopsy on those RIPs. We might have known for sure", she added, jumping back to their previous subject deliberately.

"Yes… what a pity", he managed to extricate the words from his rebellious vocal cords.

"That's life. Well, I think we should go to bed now". 

Severus gaped at her in disbelief. Had he heard right?

"Oh, I didn't mean together, man!", she laughed. "Loosen up". Severus remembered just then that she could read minds… _if_ the feeling was intense enough. _Drat the feeling, then_, he cursed.

She smiled graciously and added:

"I'll let you know if someone else dies and smells like that. And if I get to do the autopsy. Good night".

And without another word, she strode out of the kitchen, mimicking his own flourish, long hair billowing behind her.

_She's cruel_, he thought again, staring at the closed door.

He noticed he still had her white coat and, of its own volition, his hands pulled it up close to his face to sniff at it yet again.

"Good night… Swanheart", he murmured.

**A/N.**

TBC, please, _please _R & R!

Thanx to my beta Ian for his support!!!

An Garda Síochána is Gaelic for 'The Guardians of the Peace', it's the Irish Police organisation. 

IPA: International Police Association.

Disclaimer: All characters and HP universe belong to J.K. Rowling, except for the ones you don't recognize. The plot as well is mine and solely mine!! No profit is being made!!!!


	12. The Bleeder

Chapter 12 

**The Bleeder**

Halloween was drawing near. 

Molly had convinced Fiddler to throw a celebration party and she had been more than eager to accompany her to do some grocery shopping, much to Arthur's pleasure, who was unbelievable thrilled with the perspective of spending a day among Muggle stores and artifacts. Tonks wanted to go as well, as she was forbidden to change her appearance by means of magic and needed to find a suitable costume, so in the end everyone but Severus squeezed into the van for a shopping trip to the city.

Severus stayed behind, sitting in the music room, staring at the piano and thinking of Fiddler's wonderful voice. 

He had wandered around at nights, hoping to hear her again, but apparently she had decided to drop her midnight singing for good. Severus couldn't believe she actually felt embarrassed as it had been a while since he'd had the privilege of hearing a voice like that, but apparently there were some issuess with Fiddler regarding her self-esteeme.

So far, she didn't seem to have one, if it didn't involve medicine.

It was appalling, to say the least.

Severus had noticed since they had come to live with her, that she never ever looked at her reflection in windowpanes or mirrors, like the rest of the females did, as if she couldn't stand the sight of herself. He had also noticed she always wore her hair in a tight braid curled on the nape of her neck or falling heavily down her back, away from her face and sight, as if she hated it as well. Hermione, Ginny and Tonks had discovered there wasn't a single fashion magazine around the house, and Severus had heard Fiddler's acerbic tone when she was questioned about it:

"I do not waste my money and time in that kind of idiocy".

It was almost as if Fiddler thought of her body and outer appearance as a terrible burden she had to put up with in order to keep her brain alive, the only part of her she seemed to like.

But he had caught the sad, envious glances she shot at Tonks and Lupin when she thought no one else was watching, and had heard her talk to her dog when she thought she was alone, hearing her voice tremble with unshed tears, cuddling the animal and dancing around with him as if he was a slightly overgrown baby.

She walked around, snapping, challenging, laughing out loud, avoiding mirrors as if she was a vampire striding as if taking part of a martial parade, always dressed with her psychodelic scrubs, driving her van like a lunatic, hearing music all day long as if she didn't had a care in the world… But quite oftenly she'd take a detour in her apparently determined path to take care of and abandoned animal, to offer it food, water, shelter and her deeply hidden affection. She had quickly turned her house into a haven for homeless cats and dogs she found on her way to work and back.

And truth be told, she was right. She _did_ have a thing with animals. They totally adored her, following her around the house as a very bizarre group of valets, always led by a smug-looking Triskelion, kissing the ground she stepped on and guarding her with fur, teeth and claws. It was hilarious sometimes.

The Animal Queen.

But she seemed thrilled with her court of furry adorers, who where right now heralding her arrival, mewing and barking madly at the front door, waiting for her to get in and lick her to death.

Severus was startled to feel his own body tense in anticipation, and he thought bitterly that if he was to turn into a puddle everytime he sensed she was near he might as well Transfigure himself into a cat so he wouldn't differ from the others.

_Then she'd find easier to—_ But he smothered the thought away. Indeed, she was a match for him. She, as well, wanted to be loved, but wouldn't let anyone get close enough to offer it. She seemed to have developed a shield that screamed 'get away from me', and apparently no one had been brave enough to get past that barrier.

But he, Severus Snape, was too old for that. He was just lusty, he mused, and lust could be dealt with.

He heard the rustle of people rushing into the kitchen and disposing of the acquired items, music thundering from the CD  player, laughter, noises and happy exclamations coming out of the door. He sighed. He had grown used to them in the past months, but he certainly wasn't overjoyed by their company… 

He rose from his chair by the piano and thought it thrice before walking towards the kitchen. Severus seriously thought that going in there was a matter of bravery, considering the noises that came from it, all seasoned up with giggles and the uproar of muggle music.

He carefully pushed the door opened and froze on the spot, watching the so called Order of the Phoenix dancing around the kitchen table, brandishing cooking tools of all sorts and singing their lungs out. 

But God don't make lonely girls   
Sure didn't want 'em in His world   
God don't make lonely girls  
  
I gotta make her see  
I'm a guarantee  
Oh, if she'd only come along with me  
Well I can make her see  
Gonna take a walk right through these walls  
'Cause she's comin' home with me  
I ain't even gonna touch her at all  
Man, I'm only gonna lay awake and watch her sleep

The song finished just then, _just when I was thinking to step in_, Severus thought ironically, and they all turned to see him, as if expecting him to comment.

"Sounds like a sensitive fellow", Severus said, doing an effort. "So is that an example of a romantic Muggle song?".

Fiddler laughed openly.

"He's talking about a hooker", she said, and Ginny and Hermione joined her in her laughter.

Severus felt his jaw tense and said nothing. He squared his shoulders and prepared his flourishy departure when Fiddler held him.

"Oh, loosen up, man", she used that phrase a lot towards him. "It's only laughter. It won't kill you". 

The two other girls giggled even harder.

"Oh, serious now. There is a song on that CD that makes me think of you", Fiddler added; Severus' stomach gave a somewhat pleasant lurch. She thought of _him _whilst listening to a song? Surely not. He watched her in silence as she meddled with the CD player until she found the song she meant.

"There we go", she announced. "Silence everyone!!! I give you— The Bleeder!"

The lurch Severus felt was really unpleasant this time. His rational mind knew that she couldn't possibly know that was how the Death Eaters used to call him, but his increased heartbeat and the sweat on his brow told him otherwise.

The song had started, and he listened to it against his will.

_Once upon a time   
They called me the bleeder   
Well swimmin' up this river   
With sentimental fever   
But this ain't my first ride   
It ain't my last try   
Just got to keep movin' on   
If they catch me ever   
They'll throw me back forever_   
 

Everybody had turned to look at him. Even Harry looked impressed. And indeed, the blasted singer was voicing his deeper thoughts.  
  
_I guess I should be ashamed   
But I forget to be vain   
Well I did the best I could I guess,   
But everything just bleeds_…

They say you're only sad and lonely,   
And no one is impressed.

"For the love of Merlin…" someone whispered, probably Ginny, but Severus couldn't tell.

_  
I sent it off in a letter   
I need somethin' better   
Than a nail and a hammer   
To put me back together   
But this ain't my first ride   
It ain't my last try   
Just got to keep a-movin on   
Got to keep this together   
Maybe next time is never _  
  
  
"I think I'd better turn it off", Fiddler said quietly, noting the look on Severus's face. She walked again towards the CD player and the music stopped abruptly. She noticed how everyone else's gazes wandered uncomfortably around the kitchen, trying to avoid looking at Snape.

"I am sorry, Severus", she said, firmly. "That was tactless of me".

"Think nothing of it", was the dry reply.

"All right. Now, shall we finish dinner, kids? I am sure everyone's hungry", she smiled again and ushered Severus out of the room, with the mission of finding some unexistent nectarines in the orchard; but he still was able to hear Tonks saying:

"I don't believe it… Like a glove it suits him, that song does".

"I know! It's almost as if he was singing it himself", Ginny said.

"I would like to live to hear that!", Ron added, "wouldn't you, Harry? HARRY?"

"Oh, yeah… Sorry. It's just… I am beginning to see him in a new light. I just wonder why did he get so upset".

Severus peered through the door ajar just in time to see the withering look that Fiddler gave Harry.

"That was foolish of me", Fiddler said. "I should have known he wouldn't like to be exposed like that. So much for my supposed insightfulness."

Severus turned to walk away, trying hard not to acknowledge the fact  that she was, in fact, more insightful than she thought.

~*~*~*~

Fiddler couldn't find the time to talk to Severus until later that night. Or rather, early the next morning.

She had meant to, but preparations for Halloween's celebration had kept them all busy, and on top of it, she had been called in to see to a patient with presumed poisoning. She had not been able to save him, but, on the bright side, she had convinced Dr. Ambrose Allen to let her perform the autopsy, and she had booked a room for three days from now.

It was the closest date she'd managed to get as the weekend got in the way, and she hoped the traces of the presumed poison wouldn't fade by then. She didn't think so, but if there was magic involved…

  She looked at her watch. It was two o'clock already of Halloween Morning, and, after tossing her things sloppily into her room, Fiddler tried to locate Severus to apologise to him… And maybe, if she had the courage, to ask him about the disturbing image that dwelled in her mind. There was no reason for her to think he'd be awake at that hour, but somehow, she just knew that he was, and where to find him.

   In the library, reading one of her old pharmacology books, apparently lost in concentration. She stood at the door, watching him as he read, brows creased, lank hair falling over his face, legs extended and ankles casually crossed, a ceramic lamp next to him the only light in the room.

Darkness _did _suit him. 

Deep down, Fiddler knew Severus Snape was hardly what one would call an attractive man; but there was something in the indolence of his pose that made her find him utterly devastating.

She sighed inwardly and cleared her throat.

"Severus? Can I talk to you?"

Severus closed the book on his lap and raised an eyebrow, as if he wasn't surprised in the least by her being there at such extraordinary hour.

"I— Wanted to apologise for the… um… song", Fiddler said. "I realised you weren't pleased".

"I told you to think nothing of it", he said, dismissively. It felt odd, almost as if he was actually shooing Fiddler out of her own library.

"You did. But still, I felt I owed you an apologise".

"It is accepted".

Fiddler pressed her lips together, feeling rather awkward, and clasped her hands behind her back.

"I also wanted to ask you something".

"Proceed", he said tiredly.

Fiddler breathed in deeply.

"When we were listening to that song… I got an image".

"Indeed?", he inquired, scathingly.

"Indeed. It was… a rather disturbing image… going with a rather disturbing paragraph of the song. And it came from you".

"How are you so sure, if may I ask?"

"I can fathom the origin of the images I see", she assured him. "And although you were not the only one feeling awkard, you were the only one with rage burning inside at that exposure… But then… the bright crimson of rage went away… And I only saw a blonde little boy with frightened dark eyes… Surrounded by cloaked figures… He was crying… bleeding… _Everything just bleeds…_ Do you—?"

But she didn't finish her question, as Severus strode to her, deathly pale, glowing with anger, trembling with fury, blinded by pain. He grabbed Fiddler by her neck without thinking and threw her against the wall.

"How _dare _you?", he hissed, dangerously low.

She bore in his eyes boldly, trying not to retreat at the murderous light in his eyes. She had hit something deep, and she wasn't sure she'd manage to survive her audacity. For the first time in their acquaintance, Fiddler understood why Severus Snape was feared, why had he been a dark wizard, a Death Eater indeed.

"Let go of me", she managed to say through his grip on her throat.

 Severus looked down at his hand and let go of her suddenly, as she'd scorched him. He turned his back to her, breathing heavily, shoulders hunched, fists whitening at his sides. Fiddler's own hand went to her neck then, automatically, to soothe the bruised skin, and she said, shakily:

"What was that all about?"

"Just a warning, so you will learn to exercise your unique talents more carefully". He seemed beside himself, struggling very hard to get a grip. 

Before Fiddler could say another word, he turned on his heels teathrically and faced her again, but swayed to his side and paled abruptly, covering his mouth with his hands.

_For the love of God, what did you _do _to him?_

He didn't vomit, though, and Fiddler reached out her hand not sure of what she wanted to do with it, but Severus grabbed it rudely, gripping the side of the armchair he'd been sitting on with his other hand, so tight that his knuckles whitened. And then she felt it. Anger, pain and bile strangling his throat, impairing his breath, crushing him like a thousand stones.

_Lucas…_

Fiddler looked at him wonderingly, feeling her hand go numb. _Lucas?_ She focused on the name, that stirred such a deep agony in the man before her, and closed her eyes, blending with the swirl of light and color, sinking in the rainbow of his thoughts, swimming through the waterfall of his deepest feelings…

And then…

Darkness.

~*~*~*~

_"Ego, Severus Snape, capio vos ut meus uxor in obscurum, ut meus vinculum per eternus nex. Per is matrimonium permissum cruor sanctimonia subsisto"_

Fiddler translated the words in her head, and shivered against her will.

_I, Severus Snape, take you as my wife in darkness, as my bond with eternal death. Through this marriage let the purity of blood remain._

She was looking at a much younger Severus, not older than twenty, oddly raw and vulnerable. He was dressed in customary black, surrounded by cloaked figures, and holding a woman's hand, his voice not faltering in the least as he spoke his vows.

_Ego, Wynn Ludlow, recipero vos ut meus maritus, diligo in obscurum, vinco in nex. Permissum mihi exsisto dignus portans vestri cruor._

God be praised, Fiddler thought. What kind of nuptial vows _were those? _

_I, Wynn Ludlow, accept you as my husband, lover in darkness, master in death. Let me be worthy of carrying your blood._

Severus' Bride seemed rather bored with the whole ceremony, and she wore a supremely scornful look on her beautiful face.

_I should have known, _Fiddler thought bitterly.

And truth be told, Wynn Ludlow was a very alluring woman indeed. She had the face of an angel, delightfully framed by shiny locks of golden hair, and big ocean blue eyes, somewhat scathing, but with the undeniable spark of intelligence. Her skin was pale as marble, except for her rosy cheeks and full lips, and she stood there with the grace inherent to someone who knew she was dazzling and admired, and took advantage of it.

I wonder how that feels like, Fiddler thought. She felt the familiar pang of resigned pain stabbing her and wondered idly why couldn't she look like that.

Because the world needs Ugly Ducklings to increase the self-esteeme of Swans, you twit, that's why.

She sighed and watched the couple as they circled the dark altar, and heard the cloaked figures chant in unison: Nos testis is matrimonium, nos letifico in suum ieiunium, nos liceor lemma ut semino, nos liceor lemma protelo suum progenies in obscurum.

She shivered again. There was something unnerving in the uniformity of their chant, in the deep, malevolent voices that pronounced such words. We have witnessed this marriage, we delight on their hunger, we bid them to breed, we bid them to lead their descent into darkness.

Then, the image dissolved into a blur of color, but soon enough it was replaced by another. Fiddler was looking at Wynn again, wandering around a lounge of kilometric proportions, profusely decorated with valuable arcane symbols and various items of dark magic, amongst the expensive rugs, chandeliers, mirrors and furniture.

She walked dreamily towards a beautiful bassinette and picked up a small child. She held him to her chest and Fiddler smiled against her will. The little boy, no more than five or six months of age, was truly gorgeous, blonde and rosy as his mother, but with the dark, glittering eyes of Severus Snape.

Lucas.

"Good morning, Lucas", she heard Wynn's melodious voice. "Are you ready for Mother?"

The baby giggled, and Wynn, oddly enough, curled her lips up in a sneer.

"Then we might as well start", she continued, "before your father", no mistake there, Wynn had spat the word snidely, "finds out and tries to stop me".

She walked to a hidden door and banished. Curious now, Fiddler pushed her mind a little farther and was able to follow Wynn and Lucas into a dark room, with cobwebs in the corners and a small alter full with rather unpleasant tools and symbols. It smelled oddly like humidity… and  blood.

Wynn laid Lucas on the altar, his fair outfit and hair gleaming against all that blackness, and Fiddler watched him grab his feet with his hands and toy with them the way babies always did, as he laughed to himself happily, and she felt her bitter heart soften a little.

Who would have thought? He has a child! I wonder how old is he now…"

Fiddler focused on the scene before her, and what she saw left her breathless. 

Wynn was holding up a jeweled athame and she lowered it deftly, inciding the baby's soft skin. Blood came out immediately and Lucas cried in pain.

_"Permissum angelus cruor fulcio Suus vox",_ Wynn chanted.

Fiddler widened her eyes in disbelief. _Let the blood of the angel strenghten His power?_ Was that woman mad?

She probably was, as she practiced a few more well located cuts and gathered her son's blood in a bowl of the purest white. She left the baby lying on the altar, bleeding and crying, as she mixed some herbs and pungent-smelling liquids in the bowl, muttering incantations with her mellow voice.

Some sort of maternal instinct Fiddler didn't know she had suddenly awoke and made her want to reach out for Lucas, to hold him in her arms and soothe him…

Quite suddenly, the door sprang open and a younger but not any less furious Severus strode inside. The baby on the altar looked up at him, full of hope, and babbled.

_"Da…Daaa…!"_

"What do you think you are doing, Wynn?", he bellowed, his eyes fixed on the child.

"What it must be done", she replied, dreamily.

"And what, pray tell, could that be?"

Severus seemed to be fighting very hard to remain controlled. 

_He hates her_, Fiddler thought, and rejoiced inwardly.

_You're unbelievable, you know that?_

But Fiddler did not mind the mocking remark of her cynical self, as she heard Wynn's voice again.

"You are aware, of course", she said, as if explaining the mystery of life to a comatous oyster, "that our Lord has been informed of a certain prophecy, eavesdropped on a rather unsavory pub… and ever since, our Lord has been conducting some preparations to ensure his continued existence…"

Severus' face blanched, and Fiddler watched his Adam's apple go up and down his neck. Wynn grinned smugly.

"That is correct, _my dear",_ she stressed the endearment sarcastically, "I have been granted the honour of brewing the _Eternus vita_ for our Lord".

Fiddler watched Severus' hands curl into fists and could almost feel the tautness of his body.

"You— You—"

"The blood of a wizarding child is needed. An _angelical_ wizarding child, if possible", she added derisively. "And you must agree Lucas _is_ an angelical child…  Despite of you being his father. _And _his blood is powerful enough to ensure a most efficacious Draught".

She made it sound as if they were discussing the properties of a new and interesting plant.

_How can she?_, Fiddler thought, bewildered._ He's her _son!_"_

And apparently, Severus' thoughts were running along the same line, for he said, biting every word:

"He is a child, Wynn. _Your_ child".

"All the more a reason to use him", she said dismissively. "You know the incantation… And you know perfectly well I only bore him for the sake of tradition… Now he will be of use for my Lord".

Fiddler felt her jaw drop. _Hear _that!_ And I thought _I was_ cruel!_

"I will not have you harming my son in my own house", Severus said, reaching for the bleeding baby in two long strides. He picked Lucas up from the altar as he cried "_DAAA DAAAA!"_, happily, and held him awkwardly, as if he didn't know how, nor was he used to be so near the child.

"Leave him there, Severus", Wynn ordered curtly. "Or I assure you our Lord shall hear about this".

But Severus ignored her, and, holding his bleeding son almost fifteen inches away from him, walked out of the dark room without looking back.

He didn't see Wynn's expression.

But Fiddler did.

And her heart almost stopped.

~*~

         Screams were heard, an utter pandemonium of despair and bewilderement.

Wynn's cloaked form was running through the dark room's door, with Lucas in her arms. She tossed him carelessly on the altar and grabbed her athame.

"Be quiet, Lucas, you will alert your Father".

"Father", Lucas repeated. He seemed to be around two years old now. His hair har darkened a little and Fiddler could see Severus' own strong-minded expression in the baby's face.

"FATHER!", Lucas yelled, and Wynn turned her head guiltily as the door opened and three more cloaked figures stepped in.

"It cannot be done here, Madam Snape", one of them said. "The whole ceremony must be carried on in order to ensure success".

Wynn nodded hastily and moved to pick Lucas up.

"Will it work?", stammered a small, stout man, nervous almost to the point of wetting himself.

"It will have to, Pettigrew, or we're all dead".

Pettigrew whimpered and Fiddler saw his sweat-drenched face blanche horribly. He smelled of guilt a mile away.

"But what happened?", asked Wynn as the walked out of the house into the night.

"No one knows for sure", the third man said with his trademark drawling voice. "The words are that our Lord went in search for the baby in the prophecy and his Killing curse bounced off. It hit him instead."

"The Dark Lord… is _dead?",_ wailed Wynn.

"No, not dead, but barely alive", the wind blew the man's cloak away and meddled with his platinum blonde hair. 

_Lucius Malfoy_, Fiddler thought.

"Hurry, Wynn, you must brew the potion to ensure our Lord's survival".

"We will need more blood than Lucas can provide", Wynn told the men. 

Fiddler snorted in her mind as she watched them stop dead. _Where's your loyalty now, boys?_

"Yes… I cannot drain enough blood from Lucas if he is to remain alive. Unless I…", but Wynn didn't finish the sentence.

   They reached a clearing in the woods surrounding the house, where a fire burned and a silver cauldron steamed above it. Hastily, Wynn produced a velvety bag from her robes and formed an inverted pentacle around the fire with glittering stones, chanting under her breath. She then took out some herbs from the same bag and tossed them into the cauldron. Finally, she grabbed her athame, put it in her leather belt, and took hold of Lucas.

_Do you think you can stop her, Fiddler?_

_Don't be stupid, this is the past and it can't be changed._

But she wanted to change it, for she knew all to well what Wynn was about to do with Lucas.

_"Alica ut vinco rubrum oculi!", _Wynn cried.

_A spell to the master of the red eyes, _Fiddler translated.

_"Permissum ille non esculentus ut proditus parvulus!"_

_Let him not succumb to the treacherous infant._

The air was crackling with power, and Fiddler reluctantly admitted to herself Wynn was a mighty witch indeed.

_"Potare pro suus vita quod palma, ex cunabula ut capulus, tribuo ille eternus vita!"_

_A draught for his life and glory, from craddle to coffin, grant him eternal life._

She was stirring the cauldron wildly, holding Lucas against her chest with her free hand, wind blowing around them, as the cloaked figures watched them silently. The wolves where howling and more screams could be heard. It was indeed a demonic night. Fiddler saw some torches approaching them, but her hopes of someone stopping Wynn were feeble. At that very same instant she took the athame, held Lucas over the cauldron and perfomed a deep cut on the baby's left leg. Blood dripped from it to the cauldron and its contents hissed greedily.

_"Permissum angelus cruor fulcio Suus vox…_", Wynn said in a terrible voice, overriding the baby's cries, wounding his flesh repeatedly in swift, heartless motions. _"Permissum matris vitualamen ut tribuo vinco immortalis!"_

_Let the blood of the angel to strengthen his power, let the sacrifice of the mother give the Master immortality._

_You know the incantation_, Wynn had told Severus. Now Fiddler understood what she had meant.

A bloodcurdling scream torn the night.

"WYNN! NO!"

It was Severus. He was running desperately towards them, horror drawn all over his face, murder in his eyes as he ordered Wynn to stop.

_"FATHER!",_ Lucas cried, holding out his little arms as if trying to reach him.

Wynn's eyes shone malevolently. The wind made her blonde hair and dark cloak swirl around her, as she pulled herself upto full height, drew in a deep breath and brought out a thunderous voice that made Severus stop in his tracks. 

"_Permissum crudus pater testis nex suus filius gratia Senior"._

Several things happened at the same time. Fiddler watched one of the cloaked men run to Severus, to restrain him, hitting him hard on his head and kicking him to the ground. Severus fell to his knees, bleeding from three different places, holding out his hands, screaming in denial; Wynn let the athame fall mercilessly over her bleeding son, and, as much as Fiddler tried to close her mental eyes not to see it, she screamed as well as the dagger slashed Lucas' neck. Once the very last drop of blood fell into the cauldron, Wynn put the baby's inert body on the grass and scooped a gobletful of the draught.

Out of the corner of her mental eye, Fiddler saw Severus surrender to merciful unconciousness.

"Quick", Wynn told Malfoy. "Take this to our Lord, and keep the cauldron safe. He must drink it for a whole lunar cycle in order to ensure his life. This first dose will only prevent him from dying".

Malfoy nodded and ran back inside the house, followed by the other two, guarding the goblet as if it was the Holy Grial.

"I have done my task", Wynn said, once alone, and for the first time her voice trembled. "I shall hope the master will be most pleased".

She looked at her dead son next to the cauldron, and then, to her unconscious husband lying on the ground. She walked towards him.

"Severus", she said, but whether she was going to apologize or explain herself Fiddler never knew, because a ray of green light came out of Severus' wand, and Fiddler heard his voice, full of hatred, whisper deathly:

"_Avada Kedavra"._

The Killing Curse.

Wynn died before she hit the ground, unmarked, unblemished, beautiful as Lucipher.

The final words of Wynn's incantation echoed in Fiddler's mind.

_Let the Bleeder, his father, witness the death of his son for the sake of the lord._

She watched Severus get to his feet unsteadily, and walk towards the cauldron. She heard him mutter a curse, and some sparks came out of the tip of his wand. The cauldron hissed and Severus kicked it out of the flames, spreading its contents on the grass.

There was only one word in his head.

_Dumbledore._

The wizard he'd been spying for ever since he first decided he didn't want to be part of it anymore…

Ever since he had found out what Wynn was doing to Lucas in a regular basis. 

Almost over a year now.

He had to go to Dumbledore, he thought, as he made sure that Voldemort would never drink the remainders of the potion, hearing hurried whispers and relieved laughters coming from houses nearby, where the first secret wizarding reunions where being held, where good, decent wizards all over the country were celebrating the Dark Lord's downfall.

Not knowing what it had cost him.

And as Severus Snape buried his son, alone, uncomforted, he could hear the tremulous toasts coming from his neighbors' houses...

"To Harry Potter— The Boy Who Lived!"

**A/N.**

TBC, please R & R!!!!!

Thanx a lot to my kind beta Ian for his BRILLIANT thoughts!!!

Disclaimer: All characters and HP universe belong to J.K. Rowling, except for the ones you don't recognize. The plot as well is mine and solely mine!! No profit is being made!!!!


	13. Two For Tragedy

Chapter 13 

Two for Tragedy 

   Their connection had broken. 

Fiddler found herself back on the library, sprawled on the armchair, with Severus on his knees, gripping her hand tightly. He was breathing heavily, and he had his face covered by his hair, bent down so as not to meet her gaze.

Slowly, Severus released her hand and got to his feet erratically, trying unsuccessfully to walk away.

"Severus…", Fiddler began, but she snapped her mouth shut. What was there to be said?

He didn't turn around. Fiddler desperately wanted to comfort him, to take away his pain, his hate, but he seemed so unattainable and she was at a loss of words. So much hatred… Could anyone blame him, though?

Fiddler certainly couldn't.

She felt silent tears run down her cheeks, and, acting on impulse, she got off her chair and did the first thing that came to mind.

Close her arms around him.

She felt him jerk violently and could read the mauve rage of his thoughts, could felt him tearing between pushing her away or returning her embrace. He did the second thing, turning to face her, crushing her to him fiercely, fighting the sobs that struggled to escape.

"They say I hate_ him_ because of his dunce of a father", she heard his ragged voice. "Because of a moronic school grudge. As if— As if I would lower myself to—"

He couldn't continue, but Fiddler nodded, compassionately. She'd never truly believed the kids' theory, and her instincts had been right. 

With Severus Snape, there was always more to it than the eye met.

She leaned her head on his shoulder, comfortingly, wondering how _on Earth_ had he managed to keep his sanity as he buried his only son whilst listening to the toasts for the Boy Who Lived. She'd hated the blasted child all right as well. As she recalled, she'd hated people for far less than that.

She wiped away her burning tears.

"I— warned… Dumbledore—", he was saying. "I had been presenting him with information of _our_ activities for over a year… Ever since… Ever since I first found out… Found Wynn… hurting— Hurting the baby. It was not for the Potters' sake… Although I am sure the magical binding between Potter senior and me was still strong. After all", he spat bitterly, "I owed him my life. But it was not for him.

  »It was for the sake of my son…", he sighed, and his voice trembled ever so slightly, "for I knew that, if something went wrong, _she'd_ sacrifice him without giving it a thought…"

His arms tightened around her to the point to be almost unbearable.

Almost.

"And Dumbledore… He did everything within his reach to ensure the Potters' safety… But James, always the arrogant… had to ruin everything alongside with Black… Switching Keepers at the last minute… When Dumbledore himself had vowed to be their Keeper, for he knew what was at risk...

 »We had it all planned, so the Dark Lord would not hurt James' offspring, hence, the prophecy would not be fulfilled… And my son would not have died…

 »But the Marauders always thought themselves invulnerable, they were too good for the world. Let the others worry about their safety, to sacrifice themselves for James and his jolly cronies to do what they willed… "

He bent his head and sighed into her hair.

"There's always a reason for rules and limits…", he murmured. "And it unnerves me when they're foolishly broken, recklessly challenged for the sake of _Bravery…", _he spat it as a disgusting swearing word. "Gryffindor bravery…   And for seven years I had to endure the sight of _him_ being rewarded for his sheer stupidity, applauded and cheered for so called deeds he accomplished by ignoring regulations and boundaries set to _protect him_… And I cannot help to wish somehow things had been the other way around… That it was my son I could see alive instead of _him… _I cannot help to wonder why no one but myself tried to save this other child, as innocent and worthy as the cursed Boy-Who-Lived… And caused the death of my own… But, of course, what was the life of the son of a Slytherin spy against James Potter's Gryffindor jewel?"

Fiddler let out an anguished cry against his shoulder.  What was, indeed?  She hugged him strongly, weeping helplessly, as she rocked him in her embrace. Severus drew back a little to look at her, astounded. Was she _crying?_

"I am sorry…", she murmured between her sobs. "Oh, Severus, I am so sorry…", and she tightened her arms around him even more, so as to transmit him her empathy, her comfort, trying to let him know that it wasn't pity, but a deep sense of comprehension, because, oddly enough, Fiddler felt as if it had been her own child slaughtered…

 Yes, she _was _crying, suffering tears drenching his shirt, and Severus felt his own long-denied pain pouring out of _her_, and something deep within him broke lose at the sight of her tearful eyes, her swollen and reddened face, at the knowledge that she understood his anguish completely…

At the feel of her in his arms.

And, of their own volition, his hands came up to tangle in her hair, working it loose from the rubberband, gliding his fingers through its radiant softness. Fiddler didn't register it at first, so Severus grew more confident and drew her face to his, and started kissing her, moving his lips from her mouth to her jawline and back again, groaning deep in his throat. 

Fiddler's eyes widened at the feel of the first kiss of her entire life. 

It was delightful, despite the circumstances, the soft strokes of his lips and tongue in her mouth, and she found herself returning the kiss, shyly at first, then with a desperation that mirrored his own, holding close to one another, as if them both were trying to feel every inch of their bodies. Their hands came up at the same time to tangle in each other's hair, and then, Fiddler's cynical, paranoid mind suddenly awoke and yelled:

_Fiddler Greene! What THE HELL do you think you're doing?_

_I am kissing a man. That's right, you heard right, Fiddler Greene, the hag, the Ugly Duckling, is kissing a man. And enjoying it tremendously. So back off._

_Oh, so you're kissing a man! Congratulations, by the way. Just a question, though. Have you stopped to consider _why the hell_ is he kissing _you?

Fiddler's heart sunk more than just a little.

_I thought as much. Come _on_, Fiddler, did you really think it was _you?_ It's Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome! A little delayed, I grant you, but the fact remains. He'd kiss a broom in a dress given the chance... Stop being such a twit._

Fiddler's hands fell to her sides limply. Her lips stopped moving under Severus' mouth.

"What is wrong…?", he asked against her lips.

"Why?"

"Why… what?"

His hands were wandering over her body, caressing her back, fingers sliding softly along her collarbones, grasping her shoulders longingly. He couldn't think clearly, all that mattered was the woman before him and his essential desire. He grinded his hips against her voraciously, and Fiddler reacted, finally.

She stepped backwards, pushing him away, and Severus blinked in an effort to clear his blurred vision and his very lustful mind.

"Stop it", she said, and somehow she managed to make it sound stern and sad at the same time.

Her eyes looked too much like Wynn's at her worst, and no matter how hard he tried to explain it later, the truth was it all lost coherence, and Severus was looking at Wynn, then at Fiddler, and they both mingled in one, swirled around him, taunting him, teasing him, challenging him… 

He stepped towards her, grabbing her by her shoulders, and crushing his lips to her own. He wasn't thinking anymore, his instincts had taken over. He pressed her against him, kissing her ravenously, walking awkwardly in search of a comfortable location, and Fiddler soon returned his kisses, despite herself, breathing heavily, as her mind told her to stop it, to fight him, to open her eyes and realise it wasn't her he wanted, but a distorted image of his fogged brain, but it was of no use, because she _did_ want him, and this was no time for questioning. 

She walked backwards under his lead, and suddenly her ankle bent and she fell to the floor, dragging him with her. Severus moaned as he landed on top of Fiddler, rubbing himself against her thirstily, prying her thighs open as he fumbled with the fly of his trousers. She made no move to help him undress her, but she didn't resist either, as an odd mixture of languor and tension crept over her. Her body was signaling her desire very clearly to him, she was sure of that, and she wanted to kiss him, to stroke him, but he was holding both her hands above her head, almost as if he was restraining her, and that uneased her. She moved her head to kiss his neck but he jerked away as he spread her knees with his free hand, once rid of the scrub's bottom and the underwear she wore. He groaned as he slid between her legs, and suddenly, Fiddler's world was nothing but searing pain and the sensation of being split open, as she felt him impaling her mercilessly.

Severus wasn't gentle. He slammed into her forcefully, breathing raggedly, red in the face from his exertions, as various cries struggled to fall from his mouth.

"Wynn… _Wynn…"_, was what came out at last, and Fiddler's bewildered gaze fixed on Severus' blank eyes, clamping her legs together out of instinct, to push him out of her.

_Wynn. He's thinking of _Wynn.

_Well, of _course_ he is!, _her cynical mind told her._ Did you really think he wanted the Duckling when he had the Swan?_

Fiddler swallowed her tears and moved her head aside. She wanted him, but not like this. Not if he had to picture someone else in his head.

"Get the hell off me", she growled, and quite suddenly, Severus' eyes lost their vacuity, and he focused them on her, apparently realising for the first time where he was and what he was doing.

He felt confusion and embarrassement threatening to overwhelm him, and he quickly eased out of her, sitting on his heels, looking at her with a rather bemused expression. Fiddler struggled to sat up, hugging her bare legs against her chest, glaring at him through tearful eyes. She cast for something to say but she couldn't find the words. She felt torn apart, but damned be her if she'd let him know that.

"Go away", she hissed. "Go away—", she couldn't continue, trying to swallow back her tears, her mind spinning around a swirl of blue and mauve emotions, trying to get a grip, and failing…

_Dammit, Fiddler, don't you DO that!_

_He wants her! He hated her, he _killed_ her and yet he still wants her!_

_What do you care? It's his own twisted mind… Oh, I see it, now! Is it because he only used you, then? Are you turning into a gurgling bag because it is not you he wants? Come on, Fiddler, you should be used to that by now._

_Shut up, I don't need you trying to destroy me as well._

But her wicked mind cackled peevishly and told her:

_Ooooh, but Fiddler, that's what _I'm here_ for…_

She could take it no longer. Without waiting to see if he left or not, she grabbed her scrub's bottom, slipped into it hastily and left the room without another word. 

_Oh, cower away in your own house, you twit. That will make you look good._

_I told you to shut up._

_I won't. You should listen to me more often, you know I am always right! _

Again, that horrid laughter in her own mind and Fiddler, as she made her way to her rooms defeatedly, wondered how had she managed to survive so long when her own mind hated her that much.

But she was saved the trouble of answering as she entered her rooms and froze in the doorway. The window was open, the courtains swaying gently in the wind, Triskelion looking at her intently from his spot on her bed, as the CD player in her bedside table came to life of its own accord, filling the room with the incredibly loud echoes of a song from a CD Fiddler remembered clearly putting away over three days now.

_Sleep, Eden, sleep,_

_My fallen son,_

_Slumber in peace,_

_Cease the pain,_

_Life's just in vain,_

_For us to gain,_

_Nothing but all the same…_

She covered her mouth with her hands, eyes almost out of her orbits with shock. Triskelion raised his ears and wriggled his tail, as if he understood what she was feeling. She gave a hesitant step forward, shaking all over.

_No healing hand,_

_For your disease,_

_Drinking scorn like water,_

_Cascading with my tears…_

_Beneath the candle bed,_

_Two saddened angels, in Heaven, in Death…_

A tear slid slowly down her cheek, as she struggled to reach her bed, not really succeeding. Her heart was racing, and her skin broke in goosebumps at both the song and the touch of the cold wind.

_Now let us lie,_

_Sad we lived, sad we died,_

_Even in your pride, I never blamed you._

_A mother's love, is a sacrifice,_

_Together sleeping, keeping it all…_

She wept quietly. What was the song's name? For the life of her, she couldn't remember, but whoever had done that, had a thespian frame of mind indeed. She was pained, she was moved, she was scared to death.

_No sympathy, no eternity,_

_One light for each undeserved tear…_

_Beneath the candle bed,_

_Two souls with everything yet to be said._

She fell to her knees, helplessly, sobbing uncontrollably as the song's name finally registered. 

_Two for Tragedy._

And then the music suddenly stopped, as the window snapped shut, tearing down the courtain in the process. Triskelion barked loudly, and sparks came out of the CD player, which jerked as if invisible hands were shaking it, until it fell to the floor with a loud crash. Still sobbing, Fiddler crawled her way towards it and took the CD out of it.

It was intact.

Two for Tragedy.

Indeed.

**A/N.**

TBC, please R & R!!!!!

Thanx a lot to my kind beta Ian for his BRILLIANT thoughts!!!

Disclaimer: All characters and HP universe belong to J.K. Rowling, except for the ones you don't recognize. The plot as well is mine and solely mine!! No profit is being made!!!!


	14. A Wild Thing Never Felt Sorry for Anythi...

Chapter 14 

**A Wild Thing Never Felt Sorry for Anything**

_"An bhfuil tú ar meisce fós?"_

Fiddler heard either Fred or George ask to the other in a very inebriated voice. 

"No… need two more pints, I wager. This Muggle stuff is great, though. Hang on…", the redhead's brow knitted. "Did you just talk to me in Irish?"

"Yes, you dunce, and you answered".

"How come?"

Fred (yeah, it was definitely Fred), raised his shoulders.

"I've been reading Fiddler's Gaelic books. They're interesting". 

"But I haven't", George said. "So how come I understood what you said?"

"Dunno. Maybe our twin connection gets enhanced by alcohol".

They laughed like hyennas at the thought and Fiddler smiled. She shook her head and walked around the table, trying to find herself something sour tasting, but apparently Molly liked to cook sweet stuff. She raised her shoulders and grabbed a sliced lemon. That would do. She leaned her hip on the edge of the table, as she sucked at the lemon distractedly, looking around at her houseguests having the time of their lifes in their Halloween celebration. 

They had spent the last few days going up and down Kerry's Mall in search for suiting costumes and they had succeeded. Even Moody had stepped in and he was dressed like a Caribbean pirate, limping away with a patch over his non-magical eye; Molly had gotten herself a Hen costume, and Fiddler thought it was oddly fitting. Arthur was dressed like a jester, with his pointy hat and everything, and had Harry and Ginny bent over with laughter at his very unsuccessful attempts to do some card tricks.  The two of them were dressed in similar attires, oddly resembling Hansel and Gretel, and they hadn't still hear the end of it because Fred and George seemed to believe Grimm hadn't meant the tale to be so incestuous. 

Tonks was by the CD player, messing around with the CDs, wearing a gypsy suit that paid her too much resemblance to Trelawney. Harry looked at her every once in a while, and he didn't seem happy. Hermione was wearing one of Fiddler's scrubs and stethoscope and she was saying anyone who'd listen she might pursue a Healer career later on. Ron was dressed as an overgrown raddish and his siblings had howled with laughter as they informed him he was actually supposed to be dressed up for the stupid party. Lupin had gotten himself a pair of earmuffs resembling a wolf's with a matching suit and Snape had sneered at the sight of him.

"Original", he'd said.

He, of course, wasn't dressed for the occasion, but Ron had said he didn't need to.

"He's the Reaper undercover, who needs a costume?"

And they had laughed for fifteen minutes in a row.

Fiddler was also dressed in black, with her long jet-black hair loose down her back and waist, when asked, she'd replied she was dressed like Morticia Addams, but no one knew who she was so it wasn't as funny as she had expected it to be. 

She felt someone's gaze fixed on her, and she was startled to realise it belonged to Severus. He was sitting on what had became his favorite chair, with an everpresent book, away from the others, with his trademark sneer firmly on place as if he couldn't stand the sight of such preposterousness, but there was a dull glint in those black eyes when he looked at her that Fiddler found unnerving. She watched his eyes travel from her lips to the lemon in her left hand and she raised an eyebrow, inquiringly. He quickly blinked and looked away, pretending to be really interested in his reading. Fiddler shook her head and returned her attention to the party. 

Fred and George, dressed with Muggle pijamas, one in bright yellow with little suns imprinted, and the other in deep blue with moons, were fencing around with their forks, as the kids cheered and Tonks wrote down the wagers in the wall with whipped cream. 

"You know the only thing that's missing?", said Ginny thoughtfully. "Mrs. Black's portrait howling at us".

"Yeah, what d'you reckon happened to it?", Fred asked.

"Probably got burned along with blasted Kreacher", Ron said.

Harry's expression closed sadly and everyone changed the subject quickly. Sirius' death was still an issue, apparently.

"Fiddler, why are you eating that, sweetie, I made plenty of stuff…", Molly said, walking towards her.

"That's fine, Molly, I like lemons", Fiddler smiled gently.

"Yeah, acid stuff she likes… Heard that, Sev!?!?", George yelled, gleefully drunk. "You still have a chance!" 

The room roared with laughter, and Severus fumed from behind his book. This was getting out of hand. He didn't think he could stomach more teasing from that bunch of dunderheads…

But the truth was the lemon had caught his attention, though, and what unnerved him the most was he had been thinking the exact same thing George had said out loud. That, and other interesting things he could have done with the lemon… or the lady in black sucking on it.

_Stop it, Snape, I mean it._

"Yeah, Snape", Fred drawled. "In fact, you might want to repeat after me… _Tá mo bhríste trí thine. _Go on, say it, no chick can resist that".

Fiddler laughed helplessly and Snape stared at her against his will.

"Do you know what you just said?", she asked Fred.

"Not quite. I just thought it sounded sssssssssexy!"

"It means 'my trousers are on fire' chap!"

Fred blinked, momentarily taken aback, but he recovered quickly enough.

"Well, I bet they are. Aren't they, Sev?"

Severus glared at Fred witheringly but didn't dignify his taunting with an answer. He tried to ignore the howls of laughter in the room.

The party went on without Severus, as his memory went back to that night at the library and he shivered inwardly. No matter how hard he tried he still could feel her underneath him, soft and warm… he could still revel in the taste of her skin, of her lips…__

_Wynn._

NO! Not Wynn, but Fiddler, although he'd cried his dead wife's name out loud. And he was sure he'd live long enough to regret it. He had seen the hurt in Fiddler's eyes, the brightness of her tears, the way her responsiveness died at that single word… As if he had physically stabbed her. 

He looked at her, dancing and singing with the others, as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't taken her so heartlessly in her own library, as if he wasn't in the same room.

Fiddler, the same woman who had cried so painfully in his arms at the sight of his memories, the same woman who could embrace sourness (no matter what kind), and actually like it…

Snape shook his head. He was getting aroused again and he couldn't let that happen.

He closed his book with a loud thud and left the room without looking back.

But he still could hear them laugh behind his back.

~*~*~*~

Fiddler entered the autopsy's room number 101 dressed with her everpresent surgery scrub. She wore a large blue coat tied on her back as well, and her face was protected by a plastic screen and a green mouthcoverer. She had put on a blue surgery cap and she was now rummaging through the jars in search for gloves.

Severus came in then, wearing a similar attire. He scowled at his reflection on the windowpane. Fiddler had had to talk to her superiors into accepting his presence in the room, finally getting her way by telling them he was a well respected Scottish Toxicologist who could enligthen them in those mysterious deaths. But this was preposterous. He felt like a jester dressed like that.

With a sigh, Severus grabbed the gloves Fiddler gave him.

"They're sterile, so try not to contaminate them", she warned him.

"How do I do that?", he inquired, for once not snapping at her.

"Watch me".

And so he did, following every movement of the ritual she went through to put on the gloves. He mimicked her actions at his best and finally managed to be done with it.

"Not bad for the first time", she approved. "You should have been a surgeon. You have the hands for it".

Still not sure if he should take it as a compliment or as an insult, Severus followed Fiddler to the table in which the corpse lay, covered by a sheet, and watched her as she disposed the instruments she'd need. She held in her hand a black, square artifact and she pressed a button in it, brought  it to her face and spoke:

"November the third, sixteen hours. Patient: fourty-three years old caucasic male. Date and time of death, October thirty, midnight. Death dyagnosis: acute respiratory failure, cardiac arrest, distributive shock and pressumed intoxication by substances unknown". She paused for a while and then she added. "As out of the record comment I might add that said substance could be an inhibitor of oxidative phosforilation: Potassium cyanide".

She sighed deeply and put the tape recorder in the kidney table, leaving it on. She stepped back to the examining table and said:

"All right… Here we go".

Severus watched intently as she drew back the sheet and examined the corpse. She spoke again and although he knew she was saying it for the record, he had the feeling that, somehow, she was speaking for him as well. 

"The skin presents generalized cyanosis, which could confirm my previous theory. Sialorrhea can also be observed, and", she opened the corpse's eyelids, "the pupils are mydriatic, but that could be of no significance as it possibly translates a response to advanced life support maneuvers or it is merely the ocular manifestation of anoxic-ischaemic encephalopaty due to cardiac arrest. There isn't really much else to comment on the subject's external appearance except for a tattoo in the internal side of his left forearm", Fiddler lift the limb in question to peer at it closely. "It consists of a black skull with a snake as a tongue protruding from it's mouth".

She heard Severus' intake of breath and turned to see him, his eyes wide above his mouth coverer. She walked to turn off the tape recorder.

"What's wrong?"

"That is the Dark Mark… This man was a wizard. A Death Eater". Severus approached to the table and bent over to examin the dead man's face. "Only he does not seem familiar… He must not have been too high in rank, and that should explain why they found it easy to dispose of him." He was silent for a while and then concluded: "Either that or… He was a traitor".

Fiddler saw his sallow skin grow paler and her own heart clenched. Plenty of stupid reassuring phrases came to her mind, but she couldn't bring herself to say not even half of one to him. Instead, she turned on the tape recorder, grabbed a large scalpel in her left hand and said out loud:

"Let's continue", but her voice was thick from the lump on her throat. 

She felt Severus' gaze follow her movements fixedly as she performed a firm incision along the corpse's breastbone, and, out of the corner of her eyes, she saw him flinch slightly at the sound of breaking bones when she used the clamps to crack the ribcage open.

She smiled to herself and shook her head. _Funny, I would have thought he'd done worst things than this when he followed the Dark Lord._

 And she was right, he had, and in fact he was thinking about it as he watched her sink her hands into the man's chest to take out the heart, comment on it, weigh it and cut it open in search of Merlin knew what.

He had indeed had his fair share of murders during his days as a Death Eater. He had never been an active torturer, considering himself well above such bruteness, but he had killed. And more than once.

Was he remorseful?

He couldn't really say that. He had been the King's poisoner, he had killed by skills, with stealth, with delicate precission and satisfying subtlety. Severus Snape was a man of intellect and method, not a bloodthirsty dunce. He was cruel, cold and detached and he despised the raw emotions evoked in his sidekicks when they tortured people to death. Severus had seen Lucius Malfoy's wild eyes shine with ecstasy at the sight of blood in his hands, and he had felt nothing but scornful aversion. He'd watched Muggles writhe in pain and scream in agony under Bellatrix Lestrange's wand, and he had never felt the need to stop her, he had tutored and witnessed many Death Eater women as they performed unforgivable curses, as they were initiated on the Black Revels and accomplished their first ritual murder with no so much as the blink of an eye.

Except for the time when Wynn had murdered their son.

  But he had never seen a woman cutting open a corpse or a living man with Fiddler's precise movements and matter-of-fact remarks, never had he been faced with someone who could turn the most horrid procedure into a mindful process, someone who was able to embrace a task no matter how distasteful and dissect it with pretty much his own analitic curiosity, setting aside the morality of it. Wynn had been brilliant, but her brutality nauseated him. She had killed her own blood for the sake of foolish beliefs. And the more he knew Fiddler, the more he was certain she wouldn't put anything or anyone above her flesh and blood.

Fiddler had something the women he'd met before lacked, something indefinable, intangible, like an aura surrounding her, perhaps due to her half humanity, to the innate ruthlessness of her Banshee nature; this woman was a living contradiction, cynical yet sensible, cruel but not unkind, brilliant but not presumptuous, ironic and bitter, but yet with carefully hidden tenderness in her sphinxian face.

Severus had spent the day with her, watching all of her possible faces; educational in a way he'd never been, encouraging her younger students if they did something right, and correcting them as a very sarcastic but utterly kind mother would do when they didn't; snapping at nurses' clumsiness, but thanking them politely if they managed to do things the way she liked them. He had seen her deftness at performing horrid procedures, running up and down the ER taking tubes, syringes, paddles, bags and various items as she addressed her patients by name, talking merrily to them to take away their pain as she worked. 

But what had impressed him the most was one particular patient, a newborn baby suffering from extensive skin burns, his negligent mother seeming to believe boiling the child would be a nice way to cleanse him. He had seen rage in Fiddler's face, as she tensely asked the mother to wait outside, and he knew she was ushering her away for she didn't trust herself not to slap the woman if she stayed. Once the mother was out, Fiddler's eyes softened as she held the baby carefully, and he had finally managed to separate her from Wynn, when he saw that, no matter how tough Fiddler pretended to be, she was a tender woman capable of such love as Wynn never knew.

She had carefully cleaned and healed the child's wounds, whilst talking to him with the same sweet half voice she used to address her dog, calling the baby sweet nicknames, tickling his feet and dancing around with him until he fell asleep. 

He didn't remember ever seeing Wynn do that with Lucas. With her _son._ And Fiddler was doing it with a total stranger.

 Severus Snape seldom admired someone, besides Dumbledore, but after beholding such scene, he had to admit to himself that Doctor Fiddler Greene had utterly astounded him. She had the perfect amount of cruelty and kindness to make her intoxicating to him.  

He looked at her, bent over the trolley next to the corpse, examining some sort of tissue closely, brow frown in concentration, totally oblivious to his presence, humming a tune to herself, and he sighed resignedly.

He could deny it no longer.

He, Severus Snape, was shamefully besotted with Fiddler Greene.

The biggest surprise was, however, that he found the thought soothing instead of alarming; still, the blush on his face spoke of the awkwardness he felt by being trapped on a feeling he had no familiarity with. He had thought it was just lust at first, the obvious result of being in close convivence with a fertile female, and the responses the scent of her and her proximity stirred in his body. He was a man after all, and with a very high libido at that. And even though Fiddler wasn't good-looking in the conventional way, she was still a woman, and he had never been queasy about the women he slept with. Not that he had slept with many anyway.

Not even with his wife. Wynn, the beautiful swan, cold as ice and cruel as hell.

After what had happened in the library, when he had been overridden by his instincts, he had felt confused, ashamed, and above all, angry, because, no matter how badly he wanted her, he had not meant to take her that way. He had expected her to howl at him for days, to expel him from her house, or at least to slap him in front of everybody, but no. Fiddler Greene didn't lower herself to such manifestations of female anger. She had carried on as usual, her eyes defiantly fixed on his everytime they came across one another, even mocking him in her very own way as she'd done since they had met. She had even been true to her promise and asked him to join her in the autopsy.

"Severus", she said, bringing him out of his musings. "Look at this".

He walked over to where she was and raised his eyebrow questioningly. She was holding a stomach in her hands, peering at some ulcerations in the inner mucose closely.

"Look", she said again, "These are typical gastric erosions caused by cyanide. We would have to run some chemical tests on the tissue, but I am fairly certain that we're on the right track".

He saw her smile shine in her eyes and felt the sudden urge to hold her in his arms and kiss her.

Thoroughly.

_Where did that come from?_ He was not keen on kissing, he was a rude, cold, starched man. But yet his mind kept presenting him with images of Fiddler in his embrace, his mouth on hers, moving softly… gently… slowly…

He felt the immediate response of his body and squared his shoulders, breathed in deeply and willed himself to remain composed.

"Well, congratulations", he said dryly, as if she had stated the obvious. He saw the light die in her eyes and wanted to curse himself. 

_Why are you like this?_

Fiddler stiffened and put the stomach aside.

"I thought that you would like to know", she said snidely, "especially since he was one of your former playmates. But hey, from now on, I'll save my comments".

An eye for an eye. The exquisite irony with which she had spat the word "playmates" was worth of a master.

And he was the master. He bowed mockingly and circled the room examining its contents absent-mindedly. Once or twice he opened his mouth to say something, probably to apologize either for his behavior in the library of for his earlier comment, but he snapped it shut until she finished sewing the man back together.

"We can go now", Fiddler said with no inflection. "You know the way to the dressing room. "I am going to take these samples to the lab".

And she walked towards the door without looking at him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Fiddler was waiting for Severus outside the changing room. It was taking him a while, but then again, she mused, he might not be used to dress like common mortals did; he probably magicked himself into his clothing. She laughed at the thought, and leaned her back against the wall.

_What is wrong with you? Why do you _always_ fall for the wrong kind of man?_

_Because I am stupid, that's why. Now leave me alone._

_But I mean… _Look_ at him! Did he need to be so rude back there? Come on, lass, he's got worst mood swings than a fifteen year old teenager, and he's not precisely what you'd call attractive either…_

_Shut it, will you? Look who's talking… As if I had any right to be picky. Besides, his personality--- What am _I doing?_ I am justifying myself…_ to myself?_ For crying out loud._

_Have you forgotten the library, Fiddler?_

_Um— No._

She blushed and closed her eyes.

_Oh, dear… what is wrong with me…?_

But before she could answer that question, the door of the male's changing room opened and Severus emerged from it.

"Are you ready?", she said, and immediately cursed inwardly at the stupidity of the question. And sure enough, his sarcastic answer came right away:

"Obviously".

"Let's go then", she said, and strode forward, not waiting to see if he followed or not. 

They reached the Denali in silence, and left the hospital's parking lot hearing nothing but the music coming from the CD player. Severus was barely listening, but then some words caught his attention and he focused his wits on the words:

_Romantic scent, _

_spoiled Lucrece lies warm for you,_

_There's no such priest _

_that can pray me to Heaven._

_When done with me,_

_Forget if you think I feel ashamed;_

_A wild thing never felt sorry for anything._

Severus looked at her, bewildered. Did she always manage to find a song for the occasion? She held his gaze with darkened eyes, not a single thought visible in them.

"A very… suggestive song", he said, with a strangled voice.

"If you say so", Fiddler replied indifferently.

She turned on the volume and focused on the road, passing a restaurant a few moments later.

"Are you hungry?", she asked.

"Why?", his voice sounded wary this time, and Fiddler immediately recoiled.

"Oh, nevermind. I just thought that we could pick up some lunch. It's a long way home. But forget about it".

And before he could issue a reply she stepped on the gas and sped up, eating a red light in the process, squirming amongst the cars wildly, and blinking suspiciously fast.

_Don't you CRY on me, Fiddler Greene. Don't you DARE to cry._

_So much for bravery._

_Screw that song. I _am_ ashamed._

_Ashamed to hell._

She didn't say another word until they got to Elvenpath, as she didn't trust herself to speak.

But she had a consolation, however small. She hadn't cried.

**A/N.**

**An bhfuil tú ar meisce fós?** = Are you drunk yet?

TBC, please R & R!!!!!

Thanx a lot to my kind beta Ian for his BRILLIANT thoughts!!!

Disclaimer: All characters and HP universe belong to J.K. Rowling, except for the ones you don't recognize. The plot as well is mine and solely mine!! No profit is being made!!!!


	15. My Eroticism is your Oblivion

Chapter 15 

**My eroticism is your oblivion**

Fiddler got home around midnight, as usual, and after muttering the password, she entered through the back door silently so as not to wake Moody, who'd probably hex her into a kettle no questions asked if he thought she was a TRESPASSER!!

She smiled at the thought, and went to the kitchen weighing the possibility of making herself a cup of tea, but decided against it, going to the library instead, to pick up some articles she had been meaning to read.

Her mind wandered back to Severus and the strange way he had acted ever since the autopsy. A week away now. She had tried, really tried, to keep things even, acting as if nothing had happened between them, and she thought that she had succeeded, but if anything, that had only brought out the worst of him. Sometimes he was rude as hell, and some others… almost kind.

Unfathomable. 

But then again, men always were.

Lately, he acted as if he had just made his mind about something, and was just waiting for the right time to carry on with his decision. Thankfully enough, Fiddler had been very busy at the hospital and she barely spent time at home. 

She was still waiting for the results on the autopsy, but Patrick was taking his time…

Not that it worried her much. As things were, Fiddler didn't think Severus would be interested on knowing the results.

But maybe the rest of the Order would, so she better hurry up Patrick on the― She stopped on her tracks as she saw Severus' dark head poking from a chair, slightly turned to one side. Fiddler's heart began to race and she noted that she was embarrassingly blushed.

_Oh, please, let him be asleep._

She tiptoed to the reading table and extended one hand to grab the pile of articles.

"Hello, Fiddler", she heard him say.

_Damn._

"Hello, Severus", she replied. Then added, suicidal, "What are you doing up?"

Unbelievably, she heard his voice in her head: _Waiting for you._

She looked at the back of his head in open disbelief and heard him say out loud.

"I could not sleep. It happens quite often".

"Oh… Well… I**— **I am sorry to hear that. I am—"

"And you? Did you just get home?", he cut in.

She stiffened, annoyed at the question, but replied anyway.

"Yeah, I did".

"Ah. And how was work?", Severus seemed to be doing a conscious effort to talk to her and she found it bewildering.

"Pretty much as usual".

"Not any suspicious deaths today?"

"Not that I had to pronounce, at least".

"Ah." 

There was a long, awkward silence. Finally, Fiddler dared to break it.

"Yes, well… I think I am going to—"

"Fiddler, I want to see you".

She frowned at the apparent non-sequitur.

"What? I don't— What do you mean, _see me?_ Turn around. I am right behind you".

Severus got to his feet and walked towards her, stopping at a prudent distance.

"You know what I mean".

"No, I don't", she said, although she had an idea. And it wasn't a pleasant thought.

"I want to see you as I didn't see you before. I want to make love to you properly".

She laughed, bitterly. She couldn't help it.

"I believe I told you before I don't like being laughed at. If this is your idea of getting even, then let me tell you— What are you DOING?

Because Severus was fumbling with the belt of his gray nightrobe, letting it slide down and revealing he was wearing nothing under it.

"I want you to undress for me, Fiddler", he said, huskily. "I want to see you".

"Keep wishing", she said, ironically, but her gaze was shamefully fixed on his body, taking in the way his pale skin glimmered in the dim lights of the library, following his lean form with her eyes. She was as callous in judging other people as she was on herself, and truth be told, Severus could never be considered a handsome man. But then again, Fiddler was the woman who'd had a crush on E.T. for years after seeing the movie, and she was totally besotted with Gollum.

_I don't think you should tell him that, though,_ her mind told her._ Somehow I don't think he'll appreciate it. _

She stiffled a giggle. She cast for something to say, but words seemed to be the last thing dwelling on her mind. All she could do was gape at him.

He stepped closer to her, but made no move to touch her.

"Let me see you, Fiddler", he murmured.

She shook her head.

"Why don't you want me to see you?"

She finally broke down.

"Have you got no eyes?", she raged. "I hardly have what it would be called an attractive body. I can't understand why you would want to— To—", she let her arms fall limply to her sides, oblivious to the fact that she still had the pile of articles in her hands. They tumbled to the floor.

_"Crap",_ she groaned. She made a move to pick them up but gave up, too distraught to do anything.

"Do you not think I have fought it?", she heard him say. "Fiddler, I am drawn to you and I need to have you".

"Why the hell would you want _me?"_

But he didn't seem to have listened.

"If I knew I could stop myself and end this madness…", he ran a hand through his hair absently and sighed. "But, I can't".

"What?", she frowned, half angry, half curious. "What madness?"

"This! The way you invade my thoughts and stop me sleeping".

"Oh, so now I am the one to be blamed on that?", she said scathingly.

Severus shrugged, naked in the middle of the library, standing regally with no trace of embarrassement. Fiddler's hilarious side wanted to howl with laughter at the incongruity of it, but somehow, laughter seemed to have died within her.

"I know you want this, as well", he said. It was funny, the way he seemed to be so deeply focused on his words, struggling to keep them even, and failing dismaily to look at her in the eyes. She could sense his lust, and the acknowledgement of it nearly made her cry.

_He's lusting after_ me._ Believe _that.

"Oh, meet the new mind-reader", she mocked instead.

"I didn't need to read your mind. Your body told me… The other day".

_Touch_, she thought, and it infuriated her.

"I want you", he said, ravenously. "Show yourself to me and stop hiding behind your intellect".

She walked forward to slap him, furious at what had felt like an insult, but she stopped in midmotion. She curled her hands into tight fists and spat through gritted teeth:

"Look who's talking".

"As you can see, I've let down my defenses".

"A gray nightrobe is your defense?" 

"Are you going to have the courage to let down yours?", he challenged her, ignoring her sarcasm.

"No, I won't." Fiddler seized her chance. "Good night". And without another word, she stepped out of the library and nearly ran to her rooms.

_What are you doing? Why did you run away?_ She asked herself as she fumbled through her scrub looking for her god damned key.

_I can't. I am sorry but… I can't. I—_

_Fiddler, you know you want him._

_Leave me alone, I _know _I do!_ She nearly screamed. _But I can't— What he asked… I can't expose myself like that. He'll run screaming all the way downtown when he sees me naked and… I couldn't bear it._

_What if he doesn't?_

_Oh, please. Seen yourself in the mirror lately? You're _disgusting_. Not even a blind man could find you attractive. Remember Wynn? How do you think you look, compared to her?_

She blinked away the tears.

_Yeah… I know that._

She finally found the stupid key and opened the door. She was about to close it behind her when a lean arm got in the way and she had to stop her movement so as not to break _his_ arm.

_Damned be._

"I knew you would come here"

"Oh, that was brilliant", she mocked. 

She watched his features tighten as he stepped inside without asking for permission. Fiddler eyed him thoughtfully, considering to throw him out by force and decided against it. Not really a wise idea. He was still naked, carrying his robe incongruously folded in his right arm, and she noticed the Dark Mark on his left one. A part of her wanted to reach out and run her fingers over it, but she shook her head willing the thought away.

"How was it for you, then?", he asked a little nastily. "I forgot to ask".

"I don't think that's any business of yours".

"Why is it none of my business?", he asked, surprisingly evenly.

"Because I don't see how would you care".

"Care?", he gave a hoarse bark of laughter. "Fiddler, I see you when I close my eyes, I see you in shadows at night".

She felt the overwhelming need to laugh again. _Who would have thought? The man's a poet._ But instead she said:

"Are you sure is not Wynn you see?", she spat the words rancorously and was wickedly satisfied when she saw him tense.

"Wynn is dead", he replied tersely. "Dead and buried, as much as my past."

_You called out _her_ name,_ Fiddler thought bitterly. _Don't you think I will forget it that easily._

He might have picked up some of her thoughts, as he said:

"I was… dazed… I did not know… It is _you _I want, Fiddler. Not her. It is your voice I hear in my head… That song…", he only got raised brows for an answer. "It did something to me that cannot be undone by any magic."

Fiddler laughed then.

"Oh, _please._ Where did you ever read of anyone picking the Duckling over the Swan?_"._

His face twisted as if her scathing remark had hit him.

"You bewitched me", was all he said.

"Well, I am a witch, nice meeting you too", she bowed mockingly.

"I want to see the real Fiddler", he said, ignoring her. "The one behind the horrid orange clothes and the glib comments".

"There's no other one", she warned him.

"Show me who you are".

"You won't like it".

"I am of sound enough mind still to know what I do and do not want".

"Congratulations".

Severus sighed. She was tough to peel. And that only increased his desire. So much like him… and so very different… 

"Show me what you are so afraid of…", he tried to coax her with his drawling voice. "I won't turn away".

And unbelievably, Fiddler saw he wasn't lying. He was a lustful man who was trying to get in her pants, but not a deceitful one. There might not be other feelings involved but desire and need, and a blurred image to complex to fathom, that spoke of heartless sincerity, much like her own, and of steady determination to get his way.

_I want you and I_ will have _you_, his face seemed to say.

And, she had to admit, she wanted him too. Badly.

He doesn't love you, Fiddler, you know that? He just wants a fulfillment of his needs. He won't return your feelings.

I know… I know… 

Go ahead then. Give yourself to him. But when he leaves you in your bed all broken-hearted, don't you bawl at me. Don't you tell me I didn't warn you.

Her reason was right. But screw it the same. All she needed right now was him, not the unbearable nagging of her cynical babysitter mind.

She brought her hands to her head to realease her hair, letting it tumble down all the way to her waist. Severus followed her movements with hungry eyes, breathing shallowly in anticipation. Then he realised the cunning of what she'd just done and smiled despite himself.

"Very clever…", he whispered. "Your hair will cover everything, will it not?"

Damn, he'd seen right through it.

She didn't reply as she slowly took off her scrub top, letting it fall into a puddle next to her feet. Her hair shone with blue highlights in the soft light of the nighstand lamp, and Severus noted, astounded, that she had a tattoo on her right shoulder. A four-leaf shamrock. She had somewhat freckled shoulders and a mole just above her left breast, visible over the sports top she wore. She bent over to shove down her scrub's bottom, kicking her trainers off in the process and she remained tensely standing, in nothing but her underwear.

Severus looked at her intently. The rest of her skin was milk-white compared with her usually exposed arms, lightly tanned, and she had a hellenistic sort of figure, oddly reminiscent of a Bouguerau painting, of the times when ample build had been considered a symbol of fertility and thus, appealing.

Well, Severus had always been an old fashioned man.

His gaze trailed down her legs, noticing she had rather strong calves, with potent muscles standing out from the tense way in which she was holding herself, and then he examined her incongrously delicate ankles and small, white feet, with toenails painted in deep blue. They were curled to grab the soft carpet underneath them, as if fearing she'd fall off.

He watched her slide her fingers under the hem of her sports top and held his breath.

"I—can't", she said, letting her hands fall to her sides. "I— Just… Go away. Please".

"I will not. I came here to see the real Fiddler and I will see you", his tone was harsh and it did nothing for Fiddler's spirit.

Tears started running down her cheeks, and she hunched her shoulders against her will. She seemed defeated, and a very wicked part of Severus' mind thought he had finally found what could break her.

"Fiddler", he said, soothingly. "Do not cry. I will not hurt you. Not this time. Is that what you are afraid of?"

"I—", she laughed bitterly through her tears. "That, too. No, I just… I hate my body… I've always had. I've never thought someone would find it… attractive…", she shook her head helplessly.

Severus had thought at first this should be her task, but he sensed she needed reassurance or she'd retreat. So he stepped forward and held her in his arms. She tensed almost unbearably and then she embraced him fiercely, sobbing quietly against his bare chest. He ran his hands over her back, through her hair, and whispered:

"Let me be the judge of that".

She didn't say a word, nor did her sobs diminished, so he rocked her gently as she clinged to him almost desperately. He bent his head to nip at her throat, and the sides of her neck, flicking his tongue out every now and then, nearly moaning at the earthy taste of her, the clean scent of her, that lingered on his mind ever since he'd inhaled it for the first time. He buried her hands in her hair and drew her closer to him, sliding his mouth from her neck up to her jawline and her lips, kissing her hungrily, tongue caressing the insides of her mouth and her palate. He felt goosebumps breaking in her skin and grinned against her lips.

He walked her to the bed without stopping his ministrations on her mouth, and bending her back on his arms, he lay her gently on the mattress.

She didn't resist.

He lay beside her, feeling victorious, and bent to kiss her face, then her neck and her collarbones, and her cleavage over the sports top. His hands wandered on her body, massaging her breasts and going down to her stomach.

Unbelievably, she laughed out loud and wriggled violently.

"Do—don't…", she whispered. "I'm—I'm ticklish…"

"I can see that…", he drawled, brushing his fingers around her navel and reveling in the way she writhed next to him.

"Seriously… Don't… do… Oh! That…"

"All right, then", he obliged, and his hand went lower, rubbing his thumb against the fabric of her knickers. She jerked, hips thrusting up of their own volition and she saw him smile. "Yes… I see that is better…"

He let his fingers linger on that spot, watching her arch her neck, blush spreading down her face and throat, and he ran his other hand across the delicate muscles of her neck as he hastily got rid of her knickers. Her eyes darkened a little and he asked her that was wrong.

"I— don't know what to do", she confessed.

He grinned evilly.

"Let your imagination fly", he encouraged her. "Just do what your instincts tell you".

Run?

He resumed his fondling, not knowing how thankful he'd be for his previous encouragement as she began to mimick his movements, hesitantly at first, and then with growing confidence as Severus' breathing became ragged and shallow. Her hands tangled in his hair, running her fingers through his scalp and fine tendrils, and she heard him moan. Fiddler drew back, surprised.

"Is that good?"

"Yes… Yes, it is…", he murmured, breathless.

And she carried on with her caresses, gliding her fingers down his shoulders, his chest, stroking him with feather-like touches, brushing his nipples and then reaching forward to kiss them softly, her tongue flicking out of instinct, licking the small peaks in a slow circling movement, savouring his bittersweet taste and his unique scent, a shiver creeping up her spine at the taste and smell of him. She buried her head on his chest, inhaling deeply and deliberately as she licked at him again.

"Oh… oh…", she heard him moan. 

Severus held her to him, thinking numbly that this woman was going to kill him; she was probably inexperienced but Merlin bless her instincts! He rubbed himself against her, intoxicated by the feel of soft skin against his body, and tossed one leg over her hip to draw her even closer.

They lay like that for a while, kissing, stroking and suckling at each other. He moved to kiss the shamrock tattooed on her shoulder and then he slid both his hands under her top and got rid of it, Fiddler lifting her head a little to… yes, to help him. He stared at her breasts, transfixed, admiring the pale brown nipples, big and hard from his touch. With an impatient groan, Severus buried his head in them, mouthing her nipples, tugging at them gently with his lips, suckling and licking hungrily. He smiled when he heard her little whimpers.

He cupped both her breasts, large and heavy in his hands, as he nudged her knees with his own, making her shift until she lay on her back. He kissed her breasts and down her belly, watching her squirm and snigger again. He stopped when he reached her mound of curls, running an inquiring finger across it. She moaned softly and Severus lowered his head.

"Is that good?", he whispered, echoing her words.

"Yes…", she felt his finger circling her clitoris and let out a strangled yelp. "Oh… God—!"

And then her world exploded in a waterfall of glittering emeralds and bright hues of blue, swirling with soft tenderness around her. There was no trace of his dreadful graveyard of dreams now, just sated completion and overwhelming pleasure.

It hit her hard to realise it was her who was giving him this pleasure, so much that she almost didn't feel his tongue exploring the most intimate part of her, and in the daze of thought and feeling, she utterly neglected to stop him.

Not that she wanted to, anyway.

She closed her eyes and drifted into that sea of sensations, and soon enough she was rocking against his head, moaning quietly as he pleased her with his tongue and lips. She didn't realise the exact time when he climbed on top of her and drifted his lips from one breast to the other, as he slid his lower body between her thighs, but she wrapped her arms and legs around him anyway, thrusting her hips up instinctively, and felt him ease inside her slowly, carefully, but hungrily all the same.

It was a weird sensation. It hurt more than just a little, but she thought it had to be worth it, so she breathed in deeply and spread her legs as she tried her best to relax for him. Apparently it worked, because soon enough she felt him in her, moving smoothly in and out of her body.

She moved to meet his thrusts, breathing raggedly, and she buried her nose on his chest, inhaling his piquant aroma, musty, citrus, biting, and totally besotting. She licked at his neck and ran her hands through his hair again, and was rewarded with his moans of pleasure. She moved her lips to his earlobes, his shoulders and his collarbones, and that caused him to quicken his pace almost helplessly. She skated her hands down the length of his somewhat wide back, caressing it softly and holding him to her as his suddering body heralded his nearing orgasm.

She felt his release pulsing deep inside her and her medical mind told her tuttingly: Didn't you think of using a god damned condom, you twit?

And she blushed again as she had to admit she'd been too… distracted to give it a thought.  

In the meantime, Severus had eased out of her and he was now pulling her close to him, wrapping legs and arms around her as if fearing she'd fly away. Fiddler threw an arm across his chest and entangled her legs with his, panting slightly into his torso. He tangled his fingers on her hair and finally gathered the valor to point out that she didn't seem to have reached completion. She chuckled softly and he shivered at the feel of her warm breath against the skin of his chest. 

"I did", she assured him. "I guess… I'm just not… noisy".

He grinned back at her, and lifted her chin to kiss her lips gently. He had expected her to be a little noisy, actually, given her natural loud voice and her Banshee heritage, but he'd found that her quiet whimpers where unbelievably arousing. Somehow they gave away the contradictory nature of the woman in his arms, and the improbable eroticism he found in that circumstance drew him to her helplessly. He sighed. He was dozing off already, but he quivered unwillingly when he heard Fiddler humming sleepily:

Rip off this lace,  
that keeps me imprisoned.  
But beware the enchantment,  
for my eroticism is your oblivion…

He tried not to fathom the underlying meaning of the softly mumbled song, and he held her close to him as they both gave into peaceful sleep.

**A/N.**

TBC, please R & R!!!!!

Thanx a lot to my kind beta Ian for his BRILLIANT thoughts!!!

Disclaimer: All characters and HP universe belong to J.K. Rowling, except for the ones you don't recognize. The plot as well is mine and solely mine!! No profit is being made!!!!


	16. Unashamed Appetite

**Chapter 16**

**Unashamed appetite**

Severus slowly woke up to the rather wonderful feeling of having someone in his arms. The sun was trying its best to creep past the heavy curtains, and the smell of recently made breakfast floated around them.

Severus wondered idly what time could it be, and lowered his gaze to the sleeping woman beside him. She had a small hand on his chest and a rather sweet smile plastered on her face, which looked colorful for the first time in their entire acquaintance. Her breathing was deep and slow, and her eyes were moving under the closed eyelids.

She was dreaming, and Severus found that a very jealous part of himself he hadn't known he had was in hights wondering what could she be dreaming of that made her smile in her sleep.

But the rest of him suddenly thought that if he was lucky enough, the Gods were merciful and that blasted psychopatic wizard defeated, he might as well could have the rest of his life to find out.

_Keep dreaming._

With a sigh, Severus closed his eyes to do exactly that. He was dozing off again when a loud, intermitent beep nearly gave him a stroke. Fiddler jumped awake and distenganled herself from his arms without thinking.

"Oh, blast, I am _late"_, she growled. "I was supposed to— Wait a minute…"

She rolled to her side to grab the alarm clock from her bedside table, and stared at it with drowsy eyes. Finally she thought of turning it off, and sitting up on the bed, she mumbled:

"God… Wake _up_, Fiddler. What day is it today?"

"Sunday", Severus supplied laconically.

Fiddler jumped yet again, and turned to look at him with eyes wide open. Her hair whipt him softly as she turned her head. She stared at him in silence for what it seemed forever, and then lowered her eyes to look at herself, sitting up on the bed stark naked. She blushed furiously and sunk back into the bedcloths. Severus chuckled as he settled by her side.

"Don't you laugh", she admonished him from beneath the sheets. He laughed even harder and lowered the sheet to uncover her blushed face.

"Do you always wake up this disoriented?", he asked, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

"No…", she answered moodily. "I forgot to turn off the alarm, so, _naturally,_ I assumed I was late for work".

"Naturally", he echoed, moving his lips to her jawline. A part of him still could not believe the sheer bliss he was getting from those kisses, because Severus Snape was not the kissing type of man. But after last night, he had discovered he'd become rather addicted to the softness of her skin under his lips, and he wasn't about to stop doing it just now.

He had expected her to relax under his caresses, but as she did not, he stopped and smoothed a dark tendril away from her face.

"Having any regrets?", he asked softly.

"Not yet", she said, and as she felt him tense and try to roll away, Fiddler held out her arms to keep him next to her. "I am sorry! I shouldn't have said that, it sounded a lot better in my head… I didn't mean to… I— You see? This _is_ why I have no one… I keep saying stupid things like that".

"It's not stupid if that is how you feel". 

"But I _don't_ feel that way… Tell you what, why don't we try again? Go on, ask me".

Severus sighed, but after a minute he obliged.

"Fiddler", he said, formally. "Do you have any regrets?"

She locked her eyes with his, as she entwined their fingers together. 

"No, Severus. I don't".

Completely on instinct, Severus smiled and pulled her closer.

"Thank you", he said softly.

Fiddler flung one arm across Severus' chest and rested her head on the crook of his shoulder, and, as his eyes widened, she pulled back, still in his embrace, to look at his face.

"Um… Sorry", she mumbled. "I guess I shouldn't have".

"No, no…!", he held her to him. "It's… not that. Merely… I am not used to it".

She chuckled, tracing her fingers on the skin of his chest.

"Well, you know what they say… birds of a feather…"

"Yes. We are really a strange couple, are we not?"

_Couple?_, she thought._ Now, Fiddler, don't read much into it. It's a preset phrase, he didn't mean anything by it. And by the way, have you noticed how he manages to look ceremonial even in bed?_

_Oh, drop it._

"Are you hungry?", she asked, changing the subject and not caring. 

"Oddly enough, I am".

"Well, Molly seems to have done breakfast already…"

Severus stretched under the covers and tossed one leg across her flexed thighs.

"I really don't want to move", he whispered.

"I thought you were hungry".

He raised an eyebrow.

"I might think of an adequate substitute", he told her, eyes glittering.

"Are you teasing me?", she chortled.

"I believe I am", he replied, nuzzling her neck. 

She shifted in his arms, still covered by the sheet, enjoying the shiver his warm lips gave her. Her skin broke in goosebumps and she saw Severus grin in awe.

"You're so responsive…", he mumbled. 

He lowered the bedcloth that shielded Fiddler from view, slowly, languidly pressing his mouth to the gradually exposed skin, until he reached her breasts.

Then he lost control.

His tongue circled her nipples, and then he mouthed them hungrily, taking turns between them, getting soft moans from her. Her hands came up to tangle in his hair, drawing his head close to her, eyes drifting shut as she heard his ragged breathing.

With a groan, Severus climbed on top of her, wriggling his lower body between her thighs, whilst his mouth still wandered over her skin, nipping and licking impatiently, rubbing himself against her. His hands slid under her buttocks, drawing her to him desperately.

"Forgive me…", he breathed, voice raw. "But… I need…"

She held him, roaming her hands over his back, pressing up to feel him, to meet him, to welcome him.

"It's… all right…", she murmured. "I'm here".

He entered her as he suckled at her collarbone, her breasts, her throat; he began to thrust into her with frantic abandon, moaning out of raw need, and Fiddler thought humans weren't so different from animals when it came to sex after all. But she pushed the thought away and sought his mouth, kissing him fully, feeling his tongue dancing with hers, reveling in the cascade of sensations and the kaleidoscope of images that swirled around her. 

Glowing emeralds and bright shades of blue, pretty much like the ones she'd seen the night before, but today they were stronger, dazzling… _needy._ She felt transfixed both by the sight of them and the strength of her climax, and by the certainty that he needed _her._ Not just any woman to satisfy his needs, but _her, Fiddler Greene. _

She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the pang of tears in them, and wrapped her legs around his waist to draw him closer, Severus still moving inside her at increasing speed. He didn't last much longer. With a final greedy thrust, he collapsed on top of her, panting exhaustedly, and he buried his head in her breasts, nuzzling them as his breathing evened.

Fiddler held him close to her, caressing his hair, nipping his throat, dragging her lips across his chest and shoulders. He drew back a little to look at her questioningly, and she blushed.

"Well, you didn't quite let me do it before", she whispered.

His eyes glittered with something she couldn't pinpoint, and then he relaxed in her arms, letting her kiss him thoroughly.

"Wonderful…", he murmured lazily. Eventually, he slid off her and rolled to his side, craddling her in his arms, legs entangled, and he captured her wandering mouth into his own. They kissed for a long time, and Severus mused, rather amazed, that kissing was a superb activity indeed.

"I think they will suspect something", he said, breathlessly when they finally broke apart.

"Does that bother you?".

"Not quite. I just don't think I can stomach the idea of the Weasleys teasing _me_".

She laughed at his Snape-ish remark and sighed.

"Well, I've stomached them for a while now, I'll teach you to go through it… In the mean time, you can go down first. I'll catch up with you as soon as I freshen up".

With one last kiss, Severus grabbed his discarded clothings and got out of bed. He glanced backwards and grinned at Fiddler, then he left her room with a slight smile still lingering on his face. It definitely had been a while since he'd last sneaked out of a woman's bedroom… After making love to her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"You look different", Hermione told Fiddler as soon as she finally went downstairs for breakfast.

"Do I?", Fiddler replied indifferently. "How so?"

She added some sugar to her tea cup and sat down. She glanced briefly at Severus, imposing and scowling as usual, not a single line of his face betraying what had happened between them. He didn't even raise an eyebrow at Hermione's comment.

"Well, I don't know for sure", she was saying just now. "But something's changed".

"Um. Maybe it's because I let my hair down", _in more than one way,_ she thought but didn't say. Ginny eyed her thoughtfully and shook her head.

"No, that's not it".

"Then, I wonder", Fiddler shrugged her shoulders as if the subject couldn't matter less and drank from her cup slowly.

Yes, something was different all right. She had noticed it as soon as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror before her bath. Her cheeks were blushed, she was smiling widely and she had a love bite on her neck, a love bite she kept currently hidden under a thick tendril of her hair.

"Wouldn't you know, my first love bite", she'd told her reflection. And it wasn't the only one, either. "Well, actually, my first of everything".

She had stepped into the tub, wincing slightly when she sat, because her hip joints were sore. Pretty much as everything else down there, she mused, but of course, no one had ever told her the afters would be a walk in the park.

Indeed, but it had been wonderful all the same. She had gloried in her memories as she bathed, his hands touching her so intensely, his lips kissing her thoroughly, the bittersweet scent of his skin, the warmth of his body against hers… _No wonder why they all go back for more._

"Fiddler?"

"Hmmm?", drat, she was doing it again. 

She might as well get a neon side on her forehead spelling "I got shagged last night" , for everyone to see. Slightly blushed, Fiddler opened her eyes to look at Hermione.

"You were falling asleep".

"Oh, was I? Yes, well. I didn't… sleep much. I think I might take a nap later".

"Hard day at work?", Molly Weasley inquired sympathetically.

"Oh, yeah… Hard indeed".

They heard a choking sound to their left, and when they turned, their eyes met Severus struggling for air and for his temporarily lost dignity.

"Are you okay?", Fiddler asked, hiding her amusement under a mask of concern.

"Perfectly well, I assure you", Severus replied in his usual dry tone, putting his cup down.

"Wonderful. Just checking. Are you done with that?", and she pointed at his plate. At his nod, she took it away and rose from the table to bring the dishes to the sink.

"Oh, Fiddler, leave that, dear. I'll clear it up", Molly chided from her chair.

"Nah, enjoy your coffee, Molly. I'm feeling altruistic today. I'll do the dishes".

"Thank you, dear", Molly looked at her intently, with a knowing smile on her face. _Well, she didn't have seven children for nothing, did she,_ Fiddler thought.

"You're welcome. Ginny? Would you mind bringing along the rest of the dishes?", she asked of her as she walked through the kitchen's door. 

Ginny was chewing on her last bite of scone and couldn't issue a reply, so Severus drawled:

"I will do it, Miss Weasley", and he made it sound as if he'd offered to cut off his right arm for Harry's sake. He rose from his chair and stalked to the kitchen loaded with dirty plates. He stopped with his back leaned on the door to look at the woman he'd made love to the night before. _And_ early in the morning. His lips lifted up in a shark-like smile. He liked the way that sounded.

She was standing at the sink, with her back turned to him, foam up her elbows, and she was humming to herself.

_Cinnamon bed,_

_For your unashamed appetite;_

_A figurante,_

_This dance will hurt like Hell._

_Oh, bare grace mi—_

She stopped abruptly when she felt two slender arms snaking around her, and the weight of a dark head on her right shoulder.

"Why are you torturing me?", she felt his breath in her ear.

"Severus", she said. " you startled me". She shifted slightly to meet his eyes and leaned back against him. "What do you mean, torturing you?"

"What you said back there", he kissed the side of her neck, sliding his lips down her skin. She shivered at his touch, and gasped as she got a glimpse of his thoughts. _I want you. Now._

_How can _that _be?_, she wondered, somewhere between awe and incredulity; there was no surreal image this time, but there was no need, either. She could feel the evidence of his words pressed against the small of her back, and she felt aroused and really close to tears, all at the same time.

"There…was no… no innuendo meant", she breathed. "I'm… sorry…"

His hands moved stealthily to cup her breasts. He started rubbing her nipples over the fabric of her jumper and she gave a quiet moan.

"I find your apologies incredibly arousing", he whispered, sliding his hands further down her body.

"S—Severus…", she managed to say. "We… can't— Not here…"

"Where then?", he muttered, licking at her earlobe.

"I—"

"Fiddler?", they both heard Molly's voice dangerously close.

"Damned be!", swore Severus, letting go of Fiddler. He quickly walked away from her to the farthest corner in the kitchen and stayed there, sulking.

"Yes?"

"Someone's on the telephone, dear", Molly said, poking her head through the door. "Someone from work, I think".

"Thank you, Molly", Fiddler replied, perhaps a bit too loud. "I'll be right out. I am almost done here".

"All right, dear", and she disappeared. 

Fiddler leaned weakly on the sink. Her heart was racing and she felt faint. And Molly's sudden appearance had only too little to do with it. She risked a quick glance at Severus, who was still lurking on his corner. He looked positively dangerous in his dark attire and his feline poise, and rather alluring as well.

This was getting out of hand.

She rinsed the soap off her hand and said, without looking at him.

"I am going to get that call".

"Go right ahead", she heard his deep voice reply, and she got an image she didn't dare to interpret.

But she had no choice, and she left the kitchen with the feeling she had unleashed a ferocious beast.

And she was surprised that she actually found it more thrilling than scary.


	17. Walking in the Air

**Chapter 17**

Walking in the Air 

It was rather interesting, Fiddler mused, how had the tautness of the atmosphere had blatantly diminished after she and Severus finally gave into instinct and accepted their long-denied yearnings.

   They had both agreed that broadcasting the sudden (but rather obvious), twist in their relationship wouldn't be the best course of action, as they were already taunted enough as it was, but no matter how naturally skilled they both were at subterfruge, the truth was their demeanor gave them away anyhow; the way they looked at each other, the way Severus managed to touch Fiddler more than it was strictly necessary, the way they teased each other…

"They must think we're really thick", George said in between mouthfuls of spiced pork.

"Yeah, they practically reek of sex", Fred agreed evilly.

"Ew, that's disgusting!", exclaimed Ron.

"You think?", spoke Hermione. She seemed doubtful.

"Um― Hello? Snape shagging _Fiddler?_ Of COURSE it is bloody disgusting!"

"Well, I think it'll be good for him", Ginny said, evenly. "And Fiddler certainly glows, so I wager Severus isn't bad at all…"

"GINNY!", Harry and Ron raged in unison.

"Please! Just the thought of Snape getting laid is more than I can stomach", Harry said, actually green in the face.

"Well, we still got the Extendable Ears", George's eyes twinkled as if Heaven's Gates had just opened before him.

"Oh, please, George, I BEG of you, DROP IT!", Ron said.

"Why? Wouldn't it be interesting to hear that old bat in the throws of passion? And a good blackmailing weapon, too!"

"It sounds like something the Marauders would have done", Harry said against his will, thinking that, if Sirius was alive, he would have been the first one on asking George for three pairs of Extendable Ears.

"Sure it does! Fun enough!"

"Chaps, come on", Hermione interceded. "I know you can hardly restrain yourselves from getting at Snape… but do you really want to do that to Fiddler?"

"Oh, cripes! I forgot it was her he's doing!"

"Fred, that was lewd".

"Sorry. But it's true, though. Well, I guess that settles is, doesn't it?", he said, looking as if Heaven's Gates had just closed in his face… catching his finger in the process.

"Cheer up. We can still taunt them to kingdom come", his twin told him.

Fred smiled again.

"Yes, Precioussss", he said, mimicking Gollum down to the crouched maliciousness, "We can".

Sometimes, Muggle movies were worth the trouble.

        "What are you plotting, kids?"

Fiddler's amiable voice sounded right behind them, startling the wits out of them.

"Nothing, Fidd", George said, fooling no one. "Why?"

"Oh, just thought so", Fiddler's eyes glittered mischievously.

"You think a lot. You might overdo Hermione here and she won't like it".

"Shut it, George", Hermione replied acidly.

"So how's everything?", Fred asked. "You look… _ravishing_ lately". 

He stretched the adjective and was rewarded with Fiddler's blushed cheeks.

"You think so? Why― Thank you…"

"You must be sleeping well… All warm and cozy".

Fiddler's brows knitted.

"Meaning what?"

"Oh, _nothing_, Fidd! Don't be so chary…! But then again, I wager it's contagious… REAL close convivence and all… If you wander with wolves you'll learn how to howl".

"Ha… Ha… Ha. Witty", Fiddler sneered.

"See? You even sound like him!", George pointed out.

"Come on, Fiddler, did you think you could fool us?", Ron asked. "Not even Mum fell for your charade! But Fiddler, honestly… _Snape?"_

Fiddler blushed again and squared her shoulders.

"Well, I don't see how that's any business of yours, but IF you need to know, yes! Snape! We― I mean to say, um― Well, see― Oh, cripes, we're l―lovers, all right?"

Astonishingly enough, Fred, George, Ginny and Hermione cheered and clapped enthusiastically. Only Harry and Ron seemed more than a little nauseated.

"All right! That's the spirit! Give me five!", Fred smacked Fiddler's hand gleefully and danced around with her as if she had just announced Voldemort's painful death.

"Fred, Fred, Fred, easy, boy, stop it―! Fred, I mean it!"

He let go of her.

"Party pooper", he said.

"Anyhow… Who's coming to the hospital with me?"

"Is your l―l―l―lover coming?", George teased her.

"No, he is not".

"Oh. Pity".

"Why not, though?", Ron asked. "He did go with you last time, didn't he?"

"Yes, he attended the autopsy", Fiddler agreed. "But he's gone on an errand for the Order".

"What kind?"

"He didn't say".

"Well, if he didn't tell _you…"_, Fred winked at her.

"Drop it already. So, who's coming?"

"I am", Hermione said. "I am _eager_ to see Muggle hospitals from a wizarding perspective- I am sure there's _so much _to learn! Imagine if we could blend both currents…"

"My dad tried it once, remember? Didn't work out all too nicely for him", Ron said.

"Yes, but_ not all of them _are in your Dad's case, I am sure we could―"

"Shush, Hermione", Harry said, gently enough. "I am coming as well, Fiddler, if you don't mind".

"Not at all. Fred? George? On a second thought, maybe not. You'll get to the megaphone and broadcast to the four winds I am getting laid. You better stay here".

"The megawhat?", Fred asked.

"Where did you say that was?", George added.

"Nice try".

The twins pulled up identical evilish smiles.

"Ginny?"

"No, I'll stay. I don't like hospitals".

"Wimp".

"Shut it, Ron".

"What about you?", Fiddler asked.

"Oh, definitely coming", Ron said. "Who knows, I might find myself a redhead nurse like Anna…"

Hermione smacked him quite hard on his cheek in fact, and walked all the way to the van with a really sulky look.

~*~

"Whatever happened to her, by the way?", Ron asked as they tried to keep up with Fiddler's adamant stride down the Hospital's main hall. 

"To whom?"

"Anna".

"Oh, she's fine", Fiddler said dismissively. "She's dating a neurosurgeon now".

"That was quick".

"Yeah, that's Anna. Although… She did mention something… Only… Well, I didn't pay much attention because Anna sees suitors in hydrants and lighposts, but she did say she's seen a bloke lurking outside her flat for over a week now".

"Did she call the Police?", Hermione asked.

Fiddler snorted.

"Are you kidding me? She probably threw some knickers at him from the window with her flat key in them".

The kids roared with laughter.

"Sounds kinky", Ron said, licking his lips idly. Hermione glared at him.

"D'you reckon it was a wizard?", Harry spoke. "He might be spying on her to see if he can get a hold on us…"

"That's an idea, certainly", Fiddler agreed. She stepped aside for the kids to enter the Medical Lounge and added: "Well, here's where we lurk when we have nothing to do… Which usually never happens… That's the TV, over there, and we have a fridge in there… So. If another strange death occurs, I will call you as soon as I get the corpse into a cubicle and you'll help me tocollect samples and perform… a magical diagnosis, shall we say so."

"It's a pity Tonks couldn't come", Hermione said. "She would have been helpful".

"Yes, well, she's on duty, so we'll have to content ourselves with you", Ron said jokingly.

"Shut it, Ron".

They settled around the chairs and sofas, to watch TV and wait until they were needed.

Fiddler grabbed her white coat from a hanger an left, her feet marching martially towards the Triage, as her mind freely waded through her memories of Severus.  She closed her eyes delightedly and thought she was falling for that man, deep enough to start worrying about it…

Specially because she really didn't think her feelings were returned.

Sure, Severus was a very talented lover indeed… Or maybe Fiddler was too inexperienced to actually tell the difference, but nonetheless she was utterly content about having him on her bed. All the more because he didn't seem disgusted by what he saw there… He even seemed to actually… like it?

_Don't get your hopes up, Lass, he's a man, and when men are horny they only care about three things._

_Thank you, mind. I really needed that comment. _

_My pleasure._

Fiddler was a natural cynical. She had been steeling herself for the boot-giving she was sure it was meant to come ever since their first night together, but said boot was nowhere to be seen. Fiddler didn't dare to hope, as she knew the fall of disappointment was an endless and very painful one…

But she was happy as she never had been before, and she really didn't need to ask for more, she mused, because that tiny ray of moonlight was enough for her to survive.  

She started humming softly to herself as she walked, not really noticing where she put her feet.

_We're walking in the air  
We're floating in the moonlit sky  
The people far below are sleeping as we fly  
  
I'm holding very tight  
I'm riding in the midnight blue  
I'm finding I can fly so high above with you_

 She laughed as she imagined his face if he ever heard she had just compared thim to a moonbeam…

… And nearly tumbled down to the floor as she ran into a very wide female nurse.

"Oh, Nell! Didn't see you there! Forgive me!"

"Well, it's not easy to overlook me", Nell said proudly. "But you were definitely walking in the air, Doc. You all right?"

"Yeah", Fiddler blushed unwillingly, because Nell had just used the exact same phrase contained on the song she was just humming. "I was just… daydreaming".

Nell the Nurse smiled knowingly.

"Oh, I know the feeling…", she said cheerfully. "Who's the lucky bloke?"

"Nobody, Nell… Why would there be a bloke at all?"

"Doctor Fiddler, my girl, those stars in your eyes mean one thing and one thing only: You―"

"BLUE CODE, BLUE CODE, CUBICLE FOUR!"

The alarm wailed loudly and Fiddler let Nell speaking about stars in the eyes' meaning, as she ran towards the cubicle, gathering her hair up in a hurry.

"What happened?", she asked to the nearest person. It turned out to be Jerry, a first year and quite talented young resident. One of her most promising students, she might have added.
    
    "Full respiratory arrest, Fiddler, five minutes now. He was admitted fifteen minutes ago, with a sudden history of headache, weakness, dizziness and labored breathing… He then developed blurred vision and erythrodermia and went into Kussmaul breathing… We intubated him and put him on C-PAP at 100%… the heart's still beating, but arrhytmic".
    
    Fiddler peered at the monitor screen.
    
    "A-V block, this man needs a percutaneous pacemaker", she walked closer to the patient and sniffed at him. "Right. Jer, what are his ABD results?"
    
    Jerry browsed through the patient's chart and said out loud:
    
    "pH 7.3, PCO2 60, PO2 40, HCO3 –10."
    
    "Mixt acidosis... Lactic and respiratory, surely. All right, people, let's get to work! Pat, get me a second IV line. Lynn? Get me 13 amps of bicarbonate, IV push, 50 cc of sodium thiosulfate solution…
    
    "Fifty or twenty-five percent?"
    
    "Twenty-five, please. For ten minutes".
    
    "Right on it, Doctor".
    
    "Do we have DMAP, Carolyn?"
    
    "I would have to check", the nurse said and grabbed the phone to ask.
    
    "Well, in the mean time, Kyra, pass him 10 cc of sodium nitrite… we'll leave the equivalence to 300 mg at 3% for 5 minutes, shall we? Good. Now, Manny, call Cardio and tell them to send someone to apply a PP".
    
    "Yes, doctor". 
    
    Carolyn gave the receiver to Manny and told Fiddler.
    
    "We do have DMAP, Doctor Greene, do you want me to get it?"
    
    "Let me see if he reacts to nitrite, if he doesn't, get me 250 mg".
    
    "As you say".

Fiddler turned her attention to the patient and sniffed at him again. Yes, there was no doubt about it, she had the effects of the mysterious potion before her very eyes. The patient didn't seem to be reacting at all.

"Excuse me, doctor Greene, but what do you suspect?", Jerry asked politely.

"Cyanide poisoning", Fiddler replied. "Can you smell the bitter almonds?"

"Not really…", Jerry inhaled forcefully but his face screwed in disappointment.

"Don't feel bad about it. Not many people can do it… It has to do with some central receptors".

"Ah". 

But he seemed miffed all the same.

Suddenly, the monitor beeped and Fiddler cursed.

"Drat, he's out, quick, adrenaline!!"

She climbed onto the patient's bed and started CPR, but it was of no use. Despite of all medical measures, the patient was, as the doctors said, transferred to the ECU 10 minutes later.

**A/N.**

ECU= Eternal Care Unit, medical slang for Heaven.

All medications above mentioned are used in the treatment of severe cyanide poisoning. 

TBC, please R & R!!!!!

Thanx a lot to my kind beta Ian for his BRILLIANT thoughts!!!

Disclaimer: All characters and HP universe belong to J.K. Rowling, except for the ones you don't recognize. The plot as well is mine and solely mine!! No profit is being made!!!!


	18. A Poison Drop in this Cup of Man

Chapter 18 

A Poison Drop in this Cup of Man 

The TV grew tiresome after a while, even for Ron, who was still amazed by it.

Soon enough, the endless chatter box had been forgotten, and the three of them were discussing back what seemed to occupy their minds most of the time, besides their respective couples and the fight against Voldemort: The newly developed relationship between the Greasy Git and the Banshee Witch.

Even the way they thought of them seemed oddly fitting.

"For crying out loud", said Hermione, "Would you drop it already? I mean, what's there to fuss about?"

"Well, for one, the fact that I think Fiddler could have done a lot better!", Ron answered.

"That's true", Harry said. "But then again, we don't really know Snape at all. Maybe he's different with her", he added, evenly.

"Don't reckon so", Ron chided. "He's not the malleable kind of fellow".

"If anything, that's a compliment", said Hermione. "But, come on, just because you don't like him, it doesn't mean no one does!"

"Um, Hermione… _No one_ does".

"Fiddler does!"

"The lass is crazy!", Ron exclaimed dismissively, as if that excused that outrageous behavior. "Then again, if I didn't know we're not allowed to perform magic I'd think he's done something to her".

"Oh, please, Ron, that's mean!"

"Sounds like him all right… And will you PLEASE stop defending him?!"

The three of them went silent for a while.

"Do you think", Hermione spoke at last. "That he loves her, though?"

"Now, that's a fair question", Ron said quietly.

"To be honest, I don't reckon he's capable of love", Harry said. "But that's just me".

Hermione's eyebrow quirked up.

"Oh, come ON, Hermione, there's no way you can debate THAT!", Ron said. "I mean, look at him, can you honestly imagine him―", Ron's face blanched and he shrugged. "Urgh, that's disgusting!".

Harry and Hermione laughed heartily.

"It's just that… Well, Fiddler seems really happy", Hermione said, "and I am pretty sure she's indeed in love with him", Ron's and Harry's faces frowned in disgust and disbelief. "But I am not so sure about him… Maybe he's just using her, but then again, Fiddler's smart enough to realise that, I wager, so she wouldn't fall for him… Although… Sometimes it's not that easy".

"Boy, are relationships complicated", Harry mused.

"Tell me about it", Ron agreed resentfully and Hermione glared at him. "Well", he added, "Snape's a Slytherin. If anyone knows how to take advantage of such a situation, it's him".

"Yes, but Fiddler's very vulnerable in that matter".

"Is she?", both Harry and Ron seemed actually surprised.

"Honestly, don't you ever listen?", Hermione said exasperately.

"Listen to what?"

"The songs she hears and hums all the time?", Harry pointed out. "It's true, they do seem to cry something out… What was the one we heard on our way here?"

"I don't recall the name", Hermione said. "But the words I do, because it reminded me of the potion. It went something like …", she cleared her throat and declamed:

   "How can I ever feel again?  
Given the chance would I return?  
I've never felt so alone in my life  
As I drank from a cup which was counting my time  
There's a poison drop in this cup of Man  
To drink it is to follow the left hand path"

Ron and Harry remained silent.

"She's got serious self-esteeme issues", Hermione said, "and, if Snape is just using her, that would only hurt her further".

"That bastard", said Ron as if Snape had just published a first page add in the Daily Prophet announcing he was merely playing with Fiddler's feelings.

Hermione eyed him angrily.

"Will you get over it already?"

"What?! I was just saying― It's not THAT! I like her, but she's like a big sister to me…"

"Ah ha."

"Believe whatever you want", Ron said dignified. "But I―"

The door sprang open and Fiddler burst in.

"Hiya, Kids", she greeted. "We just had a celestial discharge".

They stared at her in utter nonplussement.

"A what?"

"A patient died", Fiddler clarified. "And I am pretty sure it was the potion. I just issued him into an empty cubicle, you'd better follow me".

The kids got to their feet and followed her into the small compartment with a metallic stretcher in wich a sheet-covered body lay.

"Does it look disgusting?", Ron asked, a little green in the face.

"Mmm, not really", Fiddler said. "But then again, I am used to it".

She uncovered the corpse and Hermione sucked in a deep breath.

"It must have been painful", Harry said softly, watching the dead man's facial expression.

"It was", Fiddler agreed. "Now, does he look familiar?"

The kids peered closely and shook their heads.

"Not really…"

"Hang on", Hermione said excitedly. "Yes, it's him, I am almost sure of it! If I only had the picture…"

"Him who?"

"Owen Donovan, that Unspeakable Fudge sacked months ago, remember?"

"Really?", Ron frowned.

"I am ninety-percent sure", Hermione said smugly.

"But that doesn't make any sense", Harry said. "If Fudge had sacked him, there's no reason for the Death Eaters to get a hold of him!"

"Well, no… Unless they used him as a lab rat?", Fiddler suggested.

"A what?"

"Well, that _does_ make sense, I mean, apparently, this potion was originally brewed to ensure Voldemort's immortality when he first heard of the proph―"

"WHAT?", the three of them wailed in unison.

Fiddler looked at them, and suddenly realised they didn't know (thank God), the true facts that had led Severus to desert Voldemort's ranks.

"Um― Severus told me he recalled some ingredients from some potion certain Death Eater brewed for Voldemort when he first heard of the prophecy regarding your birth, Harry; but apparently, the use of _prunus dulcis_ is a new addition and we were wondering how come they're using a lethal poison in a draught that is meant to ensure survival".

Hermione's eyes beamed with interest.

"So that's why you performed the autopsy on that other wizard!"

"Well, we didn't know he was a wizard. I merely wanted to make sure he had died due to that particular poison".

"And? Did he?"

"Clinically, I am damn sure. But I still haven't got the pathology results. It shouldn't take too long now… Anyhow, I asked for some specific genetic tests to find out whatever happened to mytochondrial metabolism since that's what cyanide impairs, and we shall do the same with this fellow here. "Considering he's probably a wizard as well, but umarked by Voldemort, it will be interesting enough to see whether there's any difference between their cells or not. Besides, Dumbledore will take a look as well. And here's where you'll help me".

Ron and Harry were a bit confused, but Hermione looked as if she had died and gone to Heaven.

They started they methodic work, collecting samples every now and then, as Fiddler cut the dead man's body open with the same skillful detachment that had mesmerized Severus. Harry, Ron and Hermione watched her silently as she weighed organs, cut samples, stoppered them, labelled them, and listened to her extended explanations about the man's anatomy and the pathophysiology of his cause of death. Hermione surely was thrilled, and she even got to perform a few stitches on the body once they'd finished, under Fiddler's tutelage.

"No questions asked, I am going to be a Healer", she said, once back in the Lounge, fourty-five minutes later.

"Oh, I am sure Muggle Medicine is different than Magical", said Fiddler.

"Imagine doing both? _You _could do it", the younger girl said, and there was the slighest hint of envy in her voice.

Fiddler shook her hand dismissively and said:

"No, I don't think so".

"You don't?", Hermione seemed miffed.

"What do you mean? Aren't you going back with us once this mess is over?", Ron asked.

"Um… no", Fiddler said. "My life's in here… There's nothing for me on the other side of Platform nine-and-three-quarters".

"But surely―", Harry stammered.

He liked Fiddler. His deep longing for a stable, loving family had been shattered more times than he could count, and ever since living in Elvenpath, he had quickly grown used to think of Fiddler as the sister he'd never had, but would have surely liked to. She was fun to be with and she seem to care about him a lot, and not in the fussing way that was Mrs. Weasley's brand.

Those facts, he mused, were more than enough for not wanting her to go away.

"What about Snape!?", Ron raged before he could think better of it.

Fiddler laughed.

"What about him? Come on, we're not engaged to be married… We're not even properly d-dating", she stumbled slightly on the word, and Harry thought absently she wasn't the only one that found it ridiculous if applied to Severus Snape.

"Is it just sex then?", Harry asked.

"Apparently", Fiddler replied quietly, but there was something more to her tone than met the ear.

In that very moment the door opened silently and an old-looking man wearing a creased white coat walked in, holding a yellow envelope in his knobby hand.

"I didn't find you in the ER, so I thought you'd be here", he handed out the envelope to Fiddler. "The autopsy report".

"Oh, thank you, Doctor Lavery", Fiddler said. "Is this the original?

"It is".

"Well, then I'll put it on the chart; I'll get my own copy".

"That would be a nice idea, only don't let Ambrose get wind of it".

"No, I won't".

Lavery nodded silently and walked back to the door, staring at Harry intently. He shifted uncomfortably. Why did _everyone_ stare at him?

"Is he your brother?", Lavery asked Fiddler.

"No…", she smiled. "He's a good friend of mine. Doctor Lavery, this is Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley".

For once, someone didn't fret at the sound of Harry's name. Lavery simply shook hands with them, and said:

"Well, you do look alike".

Harry blushed and eyed Fiddler. That statement had lifted his spirits, Merlin knew why.

"It's the hair", Lavery continued, "The spectacles… and the eyes, of course, although yours have a hint of blue his don't".

"We haven't noticed before, but not that you mention it…"

Lavery smiled.

"Yes well. I must get going, lots of reports to do".

"Oh, doctor Lavery! I just finished another one. He died around an hour ago. I sent the samples to the lab… Will you mind running the same tests on them again?"

"Looking for something in particular?"

"Altered mytochondrial metabolism, possible congenital errors or overproduction of certain enzymes. Not sure yet. But whatever it is, it enhances cellular breathing instead of impairing it".

Lavery's jaw dropped.

"That's on the report in your hand", he stuttered. "It is precissely what I found. How did you know?"

"Guessed. So what was it?"

"The three you mentioned. The full technicisms are in there, but basically there seems to be a mutation on that man's cells that reacted to Cyanide by increasing cellular breathing".

"So how come he died?", Fiddler asked, puzzled.

"Pulmonary Oedema", Lavery stated simply. "He presented bronchoaspiration".

"What?!? But I didn't― The lungs weren't―"

"Right, they weren't. It was a microscopic thing. Apparently some sort of oily substance… It was acute chemical pneumonitis".

"That's unbelievable… If it hadn't been for that, he wouldn't have died…"

"Probably not".

"Run the tests on the other one, Doctor, please. And take a good look on the lungs".

"Where's the body?"

"In cubicle 2. It's already B&T, I am told".

"I'll have it discharged downstairs".

"Thanks".

With a final nod, Doctor Lavery left the lounge, and Fiddler was faced with three flabbergasted-looking teenagers that were demanding for explanations.

"Why do you doctors speak in other language?", Ron asked. "Can't you speak proper Queen's English!?"

Fiddler laughed.

"Sorry, we're used to it".

"So what was all that about?"

"Well, apparently the other wizard, the Death Eather, was forced to drink the potion, but it didn't kill him. Some of the liquid went through the wrong pipe and he got some fluid in his lungs… An oily substance that conditioned an inflammatory reaction in them… He virtually drowned, sort of speaking".

"He Ate Death all right", Ron said. "_Now_ I get it… Couldn't you have said it that way in the first place?"

"Shut it, Ron", Harry said. "Fiddler, the potion enhanced his breathing, or something, you said?".

"His cellular breathing. We have many complex cellular metabolisms I won't go into right now, but suffice it to say that the specific metabolic way Cyanide blocks didn't happen in this bloke. On the contrary, it enhanced it, so his cells wouldn't release certain toxic substances we know as free radicals, which, amongst other things, are related to aging and apoptosis".

"What?"

"Programmed cell death".

"OK, I won't dig in further", Harry shrugged.

"So what you're saying is that something, probably the fact that he had been marked by Voldemort, made him react like that to the potion?", Hermione said, carefully.

"I am almost certain of it. But then again, we'll wait for the results of the samples we just collected today. Then we'll know for sure".

   They got home around ten o'clock in the evening and Molly was waiting for them with a light meal. Tonks had returned from duty and Moody and Lupin had decided to join them as well, so Fiddler shared the evening account with them, feeling a little awkward when they praised her brains.

She wasn't used to compliments.

They argued until late about what should be done, and as they didn't actually solve anything, Moody said he'd let Dumbledore know using one of his Auror stealthy equipments to send codified letters and they all went to bed, not even one of them noticing Snape had been nowhere to be seen.

Not one of them, but Fiddler.

She climbed upstairs pretending she wasn't worried, but of course, as her mind told her, she was full of it.

**A/N**

Bagged and Tagged (B&T), body ready for dispatch to morgue, medical slang.

TBC, please R & R!!!!!

Thanx a lot to my kind beta Ian for his BRILLIANT thoughts!!!

Disclaimer: All characters and HP universe belong to J.K. Rowling, except for the ones you don't recognize. The plot as well is mine and solely mine!! No profit is being made!!!!


	19. In the Darkness Bind Them

Chapter 19 

**In The Darkness Bind them**

Fiddler lay tensely on her bed, waiting for Severus and unable to sleep. She was staring at the dancing shadows on the ceiling, with Triskelion resting on her belly as she petted him absently.

 She had taken a long, sooting bath and changed into one of her fresh sleeping scrubs, in the hopes that it would relax her enough to get some sleep and stop worrying about the man that had shared her bed in the past few weeks, to no success whatsoever. Her mind seemed occupied by him and only him, with only a small amount of gray cells left to unfathom the mysteries surrounding the autopsies.

She sighed and tossed restlessly about, much to Triskelion's displeasure. Just when she was deciding to get out of bed and get herself a cup of tea, or maybe even go to the music room and play the piano, the door creaked open and she felt her heart nearly beat out of her ribcage when she saw Severus' startled expression at her own relieved smile. He walked towards the bed with his catlike stride, getting rid of his clothing as he did, and threw himself in her open arms, crushing her to him and kissing her desperately.

Triskelion barked loudly and jumped off the bed looking mortally offended.

"Severus…", Fiddler breathed through slightly bruised lips, when he finally broke the kiss, worried at his silence and the anguish that poured out of him, "what happened?"

He lay her gently on her back against the fresh sheets and worked her hair free from the rubberband, burying one hand in it. He settled himself next to her, a leg draped across her thighs, the other hand to her breasts, and his head on her shoulder, and sighed.

"Do not ask. Please".

"All right".

Fiddler was content now that he was here and she knew he was safe, so she wouldn't disturb him with her curiosity. She shifted to her side to face him, and held him to her, caressing his back soothingly. He hissed and drew back, putting her hands to his hair instead. He closed his eyes as her fingers slid through his lank tendrils, and he moaned as he felt her lips on that sensitive spot on his chest that she'd discovered. She drew back.

"I'm sorry. Do you―"

But he silenced her with another of his hungry kisses.

"Yes. I do".

He moved to rid her of her sleeping scrub, taking in the clean scent of her skin, suckling the exposed spots as a drowning man would seek for air; he dragged his mouth over her neck, feeling her pulse pound quickly against his lips, and his breathing became shallow, incredibly aroused by it. He bit down tenderly, relishing when she arched her neck, pressing her head against the pillows.

"Oh, Severus…"

"Fiddler―", he choked out.

He kept nuzzling at her, his face transfixed with desire and, a very flashy part of Fiddler suddenly wanted to hear him say he loved her, but she wasn't as fool as to ask it of him. So she settled for feeling him, pressed against her, exploring her whole body with lips, teeth, tongue and hands. She had lost some of her awkwardness as the weeks passed and Severus continued to prove his eagerness to see her, touch her, and please her thoroughly, although her amazed mind still refused to believe it…

Not that it was questioning if Severus' reactions to her were real or not right now.

She found herself suddenly turned on her stomach, and heard and felt Severus' surprised gasp against the skin of her back.

She chuckled, for she knew what he had just seen.

"How many… of them… are there?", she heard him ask, as his hands roamed restlessly over her skin.

"Just three", she said, and added, somewhat shyly. "You don't like them?"

He groaned passionately in response, and she shivered as she felt his tongue tracing the shape of the tattoo imprinted on the small of her back, moaning into the pillow at the sheer sensuality of his action.

"Haven't you… seen… it… before?", she managed, her voice muffled.

"No…", he panted. "I… believe… I have… been… otherwise… distracted…", his hands slid under her sides to cup her breasts, "besides… it is… the first time… we try… this… position…"

"All… too true", she agreed.

He used his arms as leverage and positioned her on all fours, grabbing her hips to press them against his own. He kept one hand there, as the other wandered down to her nether regions, to work out her moisture, and groaned in raw pleasure as he slid inside of her, moving very slowly at first and then giving into maddening need. He rammed into her relentlessly, breathing out her name with his lips against her shoulderblades, his free hand caressing her as the other held her to him.

Fiddler clenched herself around him, arching backwards to increase their contact, and moaned softly when she heard him cry out in pleasure. She felt his bruising grip on her hip and his warm breath on her back as she climaxed in a swirl of bliss and collapsed on the bed, boneless and shaky. Severus landed atop of her, panting and heaving, and she felt him bury his nose into her hair. She managed a smile when Severus rolled her to her side to pull her into his embrace, his restless fingers still caressing her arms.

"What is it, anyway?", he spoke, with his lips pressed to her temple.

"What's what?"

"The tattoo".

"Ah! The letters imprinted on the Ring of Power. It's a Muggle book by―"

"J.R.R. Tolkien", Severus finished. "I have read it".

Fiddler smiled.

"I thought so."

"May I… see it again?", he asked.

She nodded against his shoulder and rolled over. Severus traced the black coiled letters tattooed on her back with his fingertips, smiling as his action made her shiver.

_ "…One Ring to rule them all…"_, he whispered sleepily. _"One Ring to find them. One Ring to bring them all, and in the Darkness bind them"._

He pressed a kiss between her shoulderblades and rolled her back to face him, cradling her in his arms and legs.

"Do you know", he yawned, "that it bears resemblance to what the Dark Mark was created to do to us?"

She kissed his lips softly.

"I had noticed", she murmured. _"In the Darkness bind them…"_

"It is…", another yawn, "rather startling… how… he seems to… take it all from… what he most despises…"

His voice died and his breathing grew deeper, his arms loosening ever so slightly around her. Fiddler kissed his chest and settled her head on it to sleep as well, but despite her post-coital languor her eyes remained stubbornly open.

Severus turned his back to her in his sleep, and she then understood his sudden innovation and why had he altered their positions so she could not touch nor see his back; across it glowed angrily red and violet wounds, which strongly resembled whip abrasions…

Or lightning-shaped scars.

 With a lump on her throat, she turned out the lights and finally managed to doze off, not daring to snuggle close to him as not to hurt him further.

Severus woke up as he felt something cold and soothing on his aching back. He tried to blink his drowsiness away, and soon enough he realized he was lying on his stomach, and Fiddler, kneeled on the bed beside him, wearing only her scrubs top, was applying some sort of thick ointment to his burning skin.

Doctor Greene comes to the rescue, he thought, and it wasn't a sardonic thought.

It was affectionate.

_You are falling for her, you realize that, Snape?_

He didn't answer himself.

"Don't move", she admonished, as if she'd just seen his intentions printed on his back. "I am almost done".

"Fiddler―"

"I won't ask".

Severus closed his eyes and sighed, letting her take care of his injuries. He was oddly touched by her discretion, as his rational mind didn't want to upset her by telling her what had happened, but a deeply hidden, almost forgotten part of him suddenly disagreed, and he found his mouth had opened of its own volition, and was already telling her that Malfoy had used a magical whip on him, just for the fun of it, and all the more, trying to find out if pain would break what threatens couldn't: his Occlumency skills.

"Of course, he failed dismally", Severus said scathingly. "It takes a little more than that to break me".

"Yeah? I know a few well-working methods", Fiddler said, feeling free to joke now that she saw he was hurt only from the skin out.

"I am sure you do", he replied huskily and tried to roll over himself but Fiddler stopped him.

"Stay still. Wait until it's absorbed".

He obliged, but tugged at her hand to make her lay next to him. He extended his hand and ran it through her hair.

"Do I dare ask what is it that you put on me?"

Fiddler smiled.

"Oh, a very special concoction of mine…Etophenamate, Claritromycine, Lydocaine, Thyme, Coriander and Chamomile. I keep it in the fridge and it works wonders".

"I am beginning to realise that", he accepted. "I am familiar with the herbs, but, the first three you mentioned―?"

"An antiinflammatory, an antibiotic and a local anaesthetic".

"Which would explain the numbness. Thank you, it feels wonderful".

"Welcome", she moved forward to kiss his nose and was startled when she heard him chuckle. "What?"

"Nothing… I am just… not used to it".

"Well, you better do", Fiddler admonished, "because I like doing it", and to prove her point she kissed him again.

They lay on their bellies, next to each other in amiable silence for quite a while, until Fiddler suddenly remembered what she had learnt the day before and she informed Severus about the autopsy results. His eyes widened as he weighed in the possibilities.

"I wager we could work on a counteract for the potion", Fiddler said thoughtfully. "Only I would need the precise ingredients and a plausible story for the Unclear fellows…"

"The what?"

"The Nuclear and Genetics Department", Fiddler clarified. "That's what we call them… Medical joke.  Anyway, if I come up with a decent invention so I can coax them into work along with me I am sure we can manage to block whatever enzyme or metabolic way Voldemort's cells seem to have enhanced, so the potion won't work".

Severus snorted.

"I could do that as well if only I was in my dungeons".

"But you're not, and what's worst, you're not even allowed to perform magic, hence, you'll have to rely on myself". Fiddler remained silent for a while and then added pensively. "It would be the final strand for him, wouldn't it? To be defeated by something worked up by Muggles".

Severus chuckled as he thought of it.

"Yes. It would be. You do relish in life's sarcasm, do you not?"

"Yeah, I am nonchalant enough to find it amusing".

Severus drapped his arm across her back, and traced lazy patterns over the fabric of her scrub. She sighed contentedly and snuggled close to him.

"How's your back?", she murmured, eyes closed.

"Much better, thank you".

His fingers travelled up to the nape of her neck, making her shiver as he touched her thin skin, grazing the outline of her ear, then moving further to glide his fingers through her long, silken hair.

"What time is it?", he heard her mumble. That sleepy, soft voice of hers was strangely alluring.

"I do not know… nor care", he replied.

He resumed his caresses, but, although incredibly responsive, Fiddler wasn't easily distracted from her train of thought either.

"We have to get up and get something to eat… Then you could go to the hospital with me to see if we can get the Unclear fellows to work for a good cause and save the world as we know it…", Severus laughed at her sarcasm. "Unless", she added, "that you have to report last night's events to Albus".

"Not _all_ of them, of course", Severus said mischievously, and Fiddler blushed, thinking that tone suited him. "But you are not mistaken, I must let the Headmaster know what transpired amongst the Dark Lord's minions… and to ask for instructions".

He looked away, but Fiddler went direct to her point.

"How much longer d'you think you'll be able to keep your façade?"

Severus sighed.

"I do not know. Malfoy's thirst of power is growing like weed and he shall do everything within his reach to uncover me, he has been trying to do so ever since the battle in the Department of Mysteries. I thought my absence had gone unnoticed… But I was mistaken. Besides, Kreacher informed Narcissa of my continuous presence at number 12 Grimmauld Place".

Fiddler's eyes widened.

"I was able to justify that by pulling up a rather deceitful story of undercover betrayal… And, although the Dark Lord found it believable…  Malfoy did not. The game is getting dangerous".

"You see it as a game?"

"Life is a game, Fiddler", Severus said, suddenly serious. "In order to survive you must know how and when to play… and place your wagers".

"So that's what you do? Turn to wherever wind blows?"

"In a way. Do you not?"

"No", Fiddler answered. "I stick to what I believe in, no matter what".

"Wynn did that, and look where it led her to", Severus said against his will.

Fiddler's expression hardened immediately.

"I am not Wynn", she said slowly. "There's a difference between stubborness and lunacy".

Severus bowed his head.

"Be that as it is, it is still foolish".

"Perhaps", Fiddler conceded. "Mother used to tell me I should be like a bulrush, that survives by bending when the wind blows strong".

"But you would rather break than bend before someone, would you not?"

Severus traced Fiddler's cheekbone gently with his thumb, the rest of his hand cupping her chin. He pulled her face close to his and kissed her fully, slowly, with the intensity that was his brand. It was a long time before either of them could speak again.

"Take my word for it, Fiddler. As much as it honours you to be that particular way… In the end it will only lead you to destruction. Learn to bend… and to plan your backstrike".

Fiddler's eyes beamed in understanding.

"Just as you're doing now", she said.

"Sort of speaking".  Severus went silent for a while and then added, almost against his will. "I know you must wonder why I joined them and now I am against them…"

"Well, I know why you left", she said softly, putting a hand to his shoulder.

A shadow crossed Severus' face and he looked away, but he took her hand and pressed a soft kiss to it.

"I joined them without questioning it…", he sighed ruefully. "It was what was expected from me… Nothing could bestow more honour within my family than their only Heir following his father's steps. Mother, of course, was not pleased… But she was not in any position to protest."

"Do you regret it?"

Severus considered her question.

"Do you mean, if I feel guilty about it?"

She nodded.

"I cannot say that", he spoke at least, bluntly. "I did… what I had to do. I did not question it".

"I heard a soldier said that once. A Nazi second lieutenant who commited suicide after Nuremberg".

Severus nodded.

"I am familiar with it. The fact is, Fiddler, I have always believed what does not kill you, strengthens you".

"So have I", Fiddler said. "But there are some things I wouldn't do".

"That is the difference. I did not say I was proud of what I did. But I cannot change that. It was… a matter of survival".

"Better them than you, is it?"

"Do we all not think that?"

Fiddler remained silent. His ruthless honesty mesmerized her.

"Yes… Only we're too conditioned by manners to say it out loud".

"If you ask any of your fellow Gryffindors, you shall learn I am well famous for my supposed lack of manners", Severus pointed, kissing her again, his tongue darting daringly into her mouth to feast on her, as if trying to prove his remark. "Of course, that would have been quite a shock to my aristocratic mother", he finished, huskily. "Providentially for her, she never got to hear of such comments".

Severus pushed himself up on his elbows and knees to get out of bed, and his eyes followed Fiddler contemplatively as she walked to the bathroom. He made a move to follow her, but she denied with her hand.

"You can't get your back wet", she admonished.

Severus looked suddenly crestfallen.

"I have not bathed myself since yesterday", he growled.

Fiddler smiled seductively and winked at him.

"You smell fine to me", she said, and closed the bathroom door behind her.

**A/N**

Bagged and Tagged (B&T), body ready for dispatch to morgue, medical slang.

TBC, please R & R!!!!!

Thanx a lot to my kind beta Ian for his BRILLIANT thoughts!!!

Disclaimer: All characters and HP universe belong to J.K. Rowling, except for the ones you don't recognize. The plot as well is mine and solely mine!! No profit is being made!!!!


	20. Dressed as One a Wolf Will Betray a Lamb

Chapter 20 

**Dressed as One a Wolf will Betray a Lamb**

Severus, impersonating once again the famous Scottish Toxicologist, was sneaked into the hospital by a very smug-looking Fiddler, wearing her most oversized white coat over his habitual black garments, and with his hair pulled up in a ponytail. Fiddler had had the time of her life giving him a thorough makeover, and oddly enough, he had not felt like spoiling her fun. Probably because she'd finally given in and allowed him to bathe (with her as a mandatory presence in the bathtub, he had admonished evilly), and it had been quite a long time before they could summon enough energy to step out of the tub and get dressed.

    He looked at her as they walked down wide halls and tile stairs, and he mused with a rather pleasant lurch that he was getting quite addicted to Doctor Fiddler Greene. She had waken his long-time-asleep libido, and he didn't seem to be able to control it. Not that he wanted to, anyway, specially since she was so delightfully responsive— He quickly smothered that train of thought for he knew it would lead him to a dead-end situation just now.

  They had reached a wide iron door with a huge symbol in black and yellow, which oddly reminded him of a Triskelion, and he stared at it wondering if he should consider it a good omen. He laughed at himself and watched Fiddler press a doorbell and slide a card on a little juncture on the side of the door, which buzzed loudly and opened automatically.

"Go on", Fiddler said. "Just don't touch anything or they'll freak".

Severus nodded curtly and stepped inside, following Fiddler into a bright, enormous room full of trays, tilting light bulbs, and odd-looking black boxes with shimmering screens that showed confusing tables, graphics and tridimensional spirals.

"Oi, Nazi!", a white-coated man with pencils on both his ears yelled at Fiddler. "Whatcha doin' down here?"

"Hail, Mulligan", Fiddler retorted. "Oh, you know, just enlightening the ignorants…"

"Nazi?", Severus asked, unable to help it.

"Eia, that's what we call her", Mulligan clarified. "Either that or General. Ever seen her walk? She looks like she's gonna execute someone!".

Mulligan cackled heartily and then looked at Severus unblinkingly, realising they hadn't been introduced.

"Oh! Sorry. This is Professor Snape from Cardiff University. Doctor in Toxicology", Fiddler said quickly.

"My pleasure", Mulligan assured, shaking Severus' hand profusely. He bowed courteously in response.

"Mulligan", Fiddler went straight to the point. "I am starting a protocole with Professor Snape as my tutor, and I would appreciate your help".

"What's it about?"

"A certain genetic mutation which reacts positively faced with Potassium Cyanide".

"Positively?", Mulligan seemed doubtful. "As in how?".

"As in presenting enhanced cellular breathing and total lack of free radical production, thus resulting in almost absent apoptosis".

Mulligan's mouth hung open.

"Do you have proof of that?", he asked excitedly.

Fiddler handed him the autopsy report, and Mulligan grabbed it as a Knight of Camelot being presented with the Holy Grial. He perused the carefully typed papers for quite a while and then he hissed.

"This is but one case".

"We could have had eight more, but unfortunately, no post-mortem examination was conducted on those subjects. I was, however, able to perform an autopsy on a 38-year-old caucasic male yesterday, although I am sure he didn't have this particular mutation. But anyway, that's not the point, what I want you to do is―"

"To find out  what exactly this mutation involves and if there is a way of correcting it", Severus cut in, surprising Fiddler, fully wrapped up in his character.

Fiddler's jaw fell open. Not even her could have done it better.

"But why would you want to do such thing, for Heaven's sake?", Mulligan wailed. "Such mutation, if anything, it's a blessing! Imagine it's potential as a biological weapon! It could be somehow hard-coded into military personnel and such―"

"Now's the Nazi inside you speaking", Fiddler said derisively. "Just try to find out what's within this mutation and whether is it recently induced or congenitally acquired".

"How am I supposed to do that?"

"Oh, I don't know! You're the expert, aren't you? Aren't there special biological markers that show if any change in the cell is recent or not? Or, if anything, you could try and induce that very same change on cultured cells, once you've isolated the altered DNA chain…"

Mulligan eyed her thoughtfully.

"Why on Earth did you stay up there with the Blades and Eternists? You're wasting your mind there".

"Because cells don't say 'thank you, doctor', and bring along a live rooster to the ER as a proof of their gratefulness… Catching it was a real sport", Fiddler said gleefully.

"Yeah well, cells don't sue you ,either", Mulligan answered moodily. "I'll see what I can do. Have you got some samples I can work with?"

"Lavery's got them downstairs. They've been specially packed".

"I didn't expect less from you", Mulligan said.

Fiddler did that mocking bow with which she usually thanked compliments and said:

"Thanks. Now, Professor Snape and myself are taking our leave. We still got much to work on. When can I expect some results?".

"Give me two weeks. Then I'll let you know. I'll gather up a special team for it".

"That would be nice. Thanks again, Mulligan".

"My pleasure", Mulligan reassured her and then bid them adieu bowing at each of them in turn: "Nazi… Professor Snape…"

And walked them to the door pompously.

"Two weeks", she said, once out. "You've got exactly that time to recall the potion's ingredients".

Severus sighed.

"It's been a while, Fiddler", he said, half reproving, half apologetically. "The original recipe is carefully kept on a rather dark book that lies within a rather dark library… Carnavon Ludlow's library, in fact".

Fiddler's skin curled. She eyed him, torn between her scientific curiosity and her deep interest in his welfare, and held back her breath as he continued:

"I will let the Headmaster know about it". He might have an ace under his sleeve… He always does".

Fiddler smiled at him as she started the engine, and Severus found himself thinking that never in his wildest dreams had he imagined he'd once go back willingly into old Carnavon Ludlow's library to get a forbidden dark book…

   Led only by the half tender, half sardonic smile of a Banshee Witch.

  They got home in no time (Fiddler did the driving), and as they walked through the main hall they ran into Tonks, who seemed in quite a hurry to leave the house.

"Wotcher! Sorry, can't stay and talk, all Aurors have been called— Something big's happened, mark my words…"

Severus and Fiddler eyed each other.

"Who's missing?", Fiddler asked without thinking.

Tonks stopped in midmotion.

"How did you—? Oh, of course, you read my mind".

"I didn't. I merely… deducted it".

"You mean it has something to do with those poisoned blokes?"

Fiddler nodded.

"Oh, Merlin, that's terrible… Poor Grishaw…"

"Who's he?"

"Deputy chief Auror", Tonks clarified absently.

"He nearly got expelled when his son was accused of Dark Art activities… He got suspiciously cleared off. Both of them", Severus added.

"And was his son a Death Eater?", asked Fiddler.

Severus nodded ceremoniously.

"They both were. Only they had nothing on Grishaw Senior, and he was no Crouch, either. He did everything in his power to save his son".

"Whatever happened to him?"

"I killed him".

Fiddler's surprise at Severus' calm statement was only betrayed by the slight widening of her eyes.

"On your own volition or…?"

"What does it matter?"

Fiddler considered his question for a bit and saw his point.

"You might want to tell the Aurors what we've found out, Tonks", she said at last. "And tell them as well we're working on a counteract".

"I will. I must go now. They'll hex me for being late".

And with that, Tonks went through the door and out of their sight.

They walked towards the Sitting Room absently, each lost in their own musings, and stopped dead on their tracks as a black wolf, regally sat on the Persian carpet Moira Greene appreciated so much, greeted them. It had an envelope in its snout.

"Nyx", Severus acknowledged softly.

The elegant animal glided towards them, to give its master the envelope, which Severus opened and read in silence.  He sighed when he was done and handed it to Fiddler.

Dear Severus,

I have received knowledge of the recent events and I must strongly recommend the acquirement of those ingredients as soon as it can be accomplished.

  I will leave the finest details to your cunning mind, but I am sure your familiar shall be of assistance.

  My best regards to Fiddler; and congratulations to the both of you…****

**     Is leor nod don eolach."******

 "He never misses anything, does he?" Fiddler asked, amused.

"One grows accustomed to it" Severus replied tersely. "I wonder what is it with the Gaelic Phrase, though".

"That's what I meant", fiddler smiled.

Severus raised an eyebrow at her.

"It means 'a hint is sufficient for the wise'…", she went silent for a bit and then added. "Well, I guess he also finds it easier."

"What was that?

"Well, I've always found easier to say significant phrases in foreign languages… It may have something to do with pride, at least in my case, but it was always easier so say 'go raibh maith agat' instead of 'thank you', or 'Gráim thú' instead of 'I love you…' It might be it with Albus as well".

"Perhaps", Severus agreed.

"Anyway, he wasn't much of a help, was he".

Severus shook his head.

"Of course", Fiddler continued, "I didn't expect him to lead you by the hand, but— He says your familiar would be of assistance—", Fiddler was speaking to herself. "Is there a Full Moon tonight?"

"No. Why?"

"I was thinking Remus… You know, using the Wolfsbane Potion, could break in accompanied by Nyx—"

Severus snorted.

"I do not think Lupin could manage to break Ludlow's wards as a human, let alone as a dulled Werewolf".

Fiddler gave him that particular look of hers that said: "you're so mean", and she suddenly frowned, her eyes going unfocused and unblinking, as they were when she was lost in her musings. She tilted her head to one side, bird-like, still looking at nothingness, and Severus felt the irresistible urge to kiss her exposed neck. As he closed the distance between them, he thought idly that it was rather strange how she managed to arouse him with the slightest gesture, and he smiled against her skin when she jumped at the feel of his lips on her neck.

"What are you thinking?" he murmured, closing his arms around her.

Something inside of him cringed at the look in her eyes, as if someone holding her was something rare. He bent his head and dragged his mouth across the taut muscles of her neck, his tongue gliding softly over her skin. With a quiet moan she finally leaned against him, her own arms crushing him to her. Severus relished in her warmth, her taste, and her scent until he remembered his previous question.

"So?" he insisted. "What were you thinking?"

"I don't think he meant it literally".

"Who didn't?"

"Dumbledore. When he says Nyx can be of use, I don't think he meant to say she'd actually help you to sneak in. I think he meant it metaphorically".

Severus raised an eyebrow and motioned her to walk along with him towards the nearest sofa. He fell into it and tugged at her hand to make her sit on his lap. He cupped her head and made it rest on his chest.

"Elaborate", he murmured.

"Well, when I read the letter I thought of a certain phrase that suits you oddly…"

"Oh?"

"Yes. 'Dressed as One a Wolf will Betray a Lamb'. I mean, I know this one cannot be interpreted literally either, but that's what you do after all…"

Severus began to shake his head, but suddenly it dawned.

"Of course. The Remembrance".

"Hmm?"

"Today is… _Was_ Wynn's Birthday. Carnavon holds a Dark ritual of Remembrance every night today every since she died… Or so I have been told. I never attended, but I could now… Literally _dressed as one of them."_

"There you go", Fiddler said gleefully. "See? Two brains think better than one".

"Yes", he said mockingly. "What would I ever do without you?"

She eyed him thoughtfully.

"Well… You'd probably be more ill-tempered than you already are… I am told I seem to have tamed you a bit. And, you'd masturbate a lot as well".

"Merlin, are you lewd".

She grinned evilly and kissed him fully on the mouth.

"Prove me wrong", she challenged.

"I would not dream of it".

They kissed for quite a while, simply enjoying the taste of each other and the pleasure that act brought them.

"So, you'll go tonight?" Fiddler asked when she got her wind back.

"I shall".

"Will you be careful?"

"That is what has ensured my continued existence", he replied smoothly.

Fiddler smiled.

"What about you?" he asked.

"I am on call this afternoon, I think I will be back around midnight, the latest".

"I do not think I will be back myself by then. The Remembrance usually starts at that time precisely".

"Well, then, I'll wait for you", she said mischievously.

Severus shook his head.

"You are insatiable", he teased her.

"Me? Look who's talking!"

He caressed her cheek.

"I am going to have to leave soon. I must arrange some things with the Headmaster before actually showing up in Ludlow Manor".

She shivered in his arms, worried against her best judgment.

"Will you be all right? Given the circumstances, I mean", she added.

"I will manage", Severus said dismissively. "I told you once, she is as dead as the rest of my past".

"All right", she kissed him as a silent offer of peace and then settled her head back on his chest.

They remained a long time like that, in silence, until Severus shifted under her reluctantly.

"I must go", he said.

"How will you get there?" fiddler asked thinking about it for the first time as she got to her feet.

Apparently, Severus hadn't thought of it either, for he hesitated as he rose from the sofa as well.

"I—"

Nyx walked towards them, startling them both as they'd forgotten her presence. She nudged Severus' hand with her snout.

"Can you do that?" Fiddler asked, and Severus frowned.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Turn an animal into a Portkey?"

"I have never tried. But knowing the Headmaster…"

Fiddler laughed. Severus embraced her again and buried his head in her neck.

"I must go, then", he repeated.

"Take care".

"I will".

He kissed his way up from her neck to her mouth and applied himself there; as if it was the last time he'd kiss her.

"Oh, SHIT!"

They heard the muffled exclamation and broke apart, both blushing horribly.

"And I'd thought I'd seen everything", one of the Weasley Twins said, blatantly shocked.

"Obviously you haven't", Fiddler said smugly. She didn't relinquish her grip on Severus, and Fred and George, looking too stunned to actually manage one of their Weasley-ish replies, shook their heads and retreated.

"Well, that was embarrassing", Severus said when they'd left.

Fiddler's smile fell.

"You think?"

Severus began to nod and saw too late the various meanings of his previous phrase.

"I did not mean it that way, Fiddler".

"That's OK, I understand. Go already, I must shower and go to work", she said, a little too briskily.

Severus held her close and kissed her again, not failing to notice her hesitant response.

     In fact, she had three words in the tip of her tongue, but she left them there, fearing he wouldn't say them back.


	21. Gráim Thú

Chapter 21 Gráim thú 

Fiddler opened her eyes and blinked in the dark. She rolled to her side to reach for Severus, but found that his usual spot on the bed was empty. Fiddler turned on the lamp and sat up.

"How weird…", she murmured. She looked at the time, and saw it was way past midnight. She had gotten home a few hours ago, taken a quick shower and gone to bed.

And she had overslept.

 The thought occurred to her that maybe Severus had come around, seen her sleeping and, not wanting to wake her, had gone to his own bedroom instead. But it was a feeble thought. She got off bed and went to the bathroom, feeling rather queasy. She looked at herself in the mirror and tutted at the dark smudges under her eyes.

"You need to sleep and eat properly, lass", she told herself.

She washed her face and gathered her hair in a braid. She then coiled it on the nape of her neck and used a hairclip to keep it there. Once that was taken care of, and just to make sure, she headed for Severus' room.

It was empty.

Fiddler felt her heart race, but her rational mind told her to remain calmed.

He's an insomniac, Fiddler, you know it, he might be wandering around the house and he has no need for you to follow him like a puppy.

But something was telling her that was not it. A deep, unsettling sense of foreboding. Besides, ever since they had become lovers he had been sleeping all right.

 She finally decided to go to the kitchen, get a soothing cup of tea and wait for him while she read some articles she had been putting aside for some reason. She smiled inwardly. Well, now her nights were occupied with more… _interesting_ activities.

She made some tea and sat on the counter, browsing to her pile of medical articles without really paying attention to what she was reading.

"Oh, Trisks…", she sighed. "Where's your daddy?"

She laughed out loud imagining his face had he heard that. Triskelion looked at her and raised his ears, but made no move to leave his spot and comfort his human. Fiddler finished her second cup of tea and closed the plastic folder. It was useless. She was beginning to worry now. She leaned her elbows on the counter, put her head between her hands and closed her eyes.

It was a big mistake.

 She was suddenly confronted with the face of Lucius Malfoy laughing delightedly. He was wearing a long black cloak and he had a silvery mask above his head, as if he'd just uncovered his face to show it to someone.

Oh, please, God, no.

Fiddler followed Malfoy's gaze down to the ground, where a dark form lay. It was curled around itself and Fiddler's clinical mind told her it wasn't breathing.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no… 

She didn't seem capable of forming another thought.

"Well", Lucius Malfoy said. "He did not last long. I always thought he'd be more… resistent. Oh, well. Mulciber, get rid of him".

Another cloaked figure stepped forward and kicked the form on the ground so hard that it caused it to turn over.

Oh, thank God, thank God…! 

It was a brown haired man in his mid thirties. His face was cyanotic and Fiddler knew at once his cause of death.

"Severus, my friend", she heard Malfoy say. "You're next".

Two men hurled forward, dragging by his elbows a third one, long dark hair falling over his face, breathing raggedly and with blood trickling from his gritted mouth.

"Severus, Severus", Malfoy said smugly. "I never thought you'd sink so low". He raised his hand and Fiddler shrunk in anticipation, but he merely smacked Severus' cheek as if he was a misbehaving child.

"So, tell me", Malfoy continued, eyes wide in a mocking expression of utmost interest. "Is she good? That bitch you're doing? She must be, to have you so off-guard lately… But then again, you've always been  senseless after the most pityful shag, haven't you, my friend? Remember, Severus, you must rule over the pleasures of the flesh, not them over you".

"You should know", Severus replied hoarsely.

This time, Malfoy did hit him. Blood flew from Severus' nose, and the two men holding him upright released him so he fell to his knees helplessly.

"Now, that position suits you, Severus", Malfoy laughed, walking around him in slow, elegant circles. He kicked Severus forcefully on the back, and threw him to the ground, face down. It was then when Fiddler noticed he had his hands tied to his back. "Before I am done with you", Malfoy warned, "I assure you you will tell me how to get past those wards, Severus. I think I might have a go on that Muggle of yours".

"I think you will have a little surprise if you try that", Severus replied, and Fiddler was both astounded and moved at the pride in his voice.

"Oh, you give her too much credit, do you not? Well, I will soon find out what is it so great about her. Yes, she might be a nice change to my somewhat… boring routine".

Severus flexed his legs as if trying to stand up, but Malfoy put his boot on his back.

"Stay, Severus", he said. "You know, as much as I would like you to watch when I get my hands on your little bitch, I am afraid I won't be able to give you that last gift. You see, our Lord's orders are to dispose of you swiftly, hence, I think it's time for you to get stabbed by your own sword… Mulciber, get the flask; Crabbe, Goyle, restrain him".

The two men bent over and picked Severus up by his elbows.

"You'd be flustered if you knew how short it took us to develop the potion, Severus", Malfoy said, "you have taught Draco well. Yes, although your memory is somewhat impaired lately, I daresay you will remember the original ingredients of this particular draught… brewed by one of our most brilliant minds to ensure our Lord's immortality… Wynn Ludlow Snape. May she rest in darkness".

Snape writhed fiercely, but Crabbe and Goyle tightened their grip on him.

"Oh, I see you remember. Do you recall the final ingredient…_ my friend?"_, Malfoy was gloating in Severus' pain, and Fiddler was burning with rage. Had she been actually near him and she would have killed Malfoy with her own hands. Twice.

"Yes, you do. How could you forget? That was, I daresay, your final gift to our Lord before you became a despicable traitor…", Malfoy hit Severus in the face again. "Anyway, _my own _son and heir, very much alive by the way, has managed to add another ingredient to this potion, a certain herb that works wonders in our Lord's unique celularity. We had to test it in order to find out the exact amount of the herb needed, hence resulting in the death of many Muggles and wizards. No big loss. But their blood and the herb mixed together in the potion brewed by _my son _have managed to ensure our Lord the immortality _your son_ failed to give him!", he emphasized his last words, rejoicing in Severus' expression, and thumped him hard on the stomach. Severus bent without a sound. Malfoy approached him, grabbed him by his hair and tugged his head up.

"Let us close the circle, Severus", Lucius whispered viciously. "Lucas' blood… and your blood. The Dark Lord will be most pleased". He pressed the flask to Severus' lips and ordered: "Drink, Severus. It will be painful, but quick. What am I saying… You already know that!"

He grabbed Severus' jaw to force his mouth open, and Fiddler heard her own ear-splitting scream: _DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH HIM!_

And then the image broke into a thousand pieces, and Fiddler found herself on the Kitchen's floor, hugging her knees tightly to her chest, tears running down her cheeks. Triskelion was sniffing at her wet face curiously.

Without a second thought, she got to her feet and grabbed the van keys from the wooden dog-shaped key hook that hung on the wall, racing towards the garage through the back door, wondering the reach of Dumbledore's wards as she jumped in the van and started the engine.

She drove wildly to the gate, opened it with the remote control and went through it, stopping shortly afterwards. She stepped out the Denali without turning it off, so she could use the lights, and peered around, cursing under her breath, and trying, very unsuccessfully, to fight down the tears. If she'd only knew how to Apparate she'd do it to look for him, screw Dumbledore's magic restriction. But she didn't know how, and all she could do was walk within the circle of light like a dunce and pray to the gods above that he was all right.

What if he isn't? 

_Fiddler, he's been Marked as well. _IF_ Malfoy forced the potion on him, he won't be killed by it. You know it._

_What if he bronchoaspirates?_

_Always the tragic, aren't you? Use your brain, Fiddler, and stop whining. Simply… use your br_—_That's it!_

Fiddler focused as Dumbledore had taught her and reached for Severus' own mind. She immediately got blurred images of bushy trees, the sound of the ocean, blowing wind, a stony road…

Bugger me. He's on the edge of the cliff.

She jumped back in the van and sped up an almost hidden road, rattling higher and higher, circling the cliff until she could go no further, and the van's lights illuminated him, stumbling perilously close to the edge, hunched over himself and holding a hand to his side.

"Severus!", she cried, stepping out of the van.

He raised his head and she saw his sallow face blotched with blood coming out from both his nose and lips. She got to his side in time to hold him in her arms and prevent him from falling.

"Severus…", she repeated, roaming her hands on his back and sides, trying to feel for broken ribs, sensing his breathing movements. He held her fiercely to him and whispered:

"Run. They're coming".

Fiddler wasted no time. She dragged Severus to the van, helped him in, and she was soon speeding down the stony road as if demons were chasing them.

In a way.

She reached the gate and drove through it, pushing the button to close it hastily.

"Will they be able to get through?"

"Theorically, no", Severus replied with his eyes closed. "Once we got through the gate, the wards were activated and the house is supposed to banish from sight".

"Excellent", she said as she parked the van in the garage. She stepped to help him out, and let him use her as a crutch all the way to the kitchen's back door. Once inside, he fell on the nearest chair and moaned quietly. The kitchen's lights only but brought up the dramatic appearance of his blood stained face, but other than that he seemed… _Still alive?_ Her ironic mind supplied.

"Wait here", she told him. "I need to get some stuff".

He only nodded and she ran upstairs to get her stethoscope and her first aid box, which had plenty of the most various supplies. She browsed through it hoping she wouldn't need some of them and went back down.  Severus had his forehead in his hand and his eyes still closed.

"I am back", she said softly. "Now let me check on you".

He opened his eyes and pointed at the funny thing she had around her neck.

"What is that?", he asked.

"A stethoscope. I will hear your lungs with it", and she did, pressing the disc to his back, and asking him to inhale deeply. He obliged and Fiddler listened carefully to his breathing and heartbeat, finding them satisfactory. She then pressed her fingers to his ribcage, watching his expression, and pressing the disc to each rib in turn. She finally put the stethoscope aside and told him: "I don't hear crepitation, so clinically, I daresay you've got no broken ribs. I would need some X rays to be certain but I guess that is out of the question".

Severus nodded silently.

"Well then, let me clean your face".

She opened a bottle of sterile water and used some gauzes to carefully wipe his face. Once free of blood smears, Fiddler observed he didn't seem to have serious injuries, just a splitted lip and a superficial cut over his left eyebrow. She touched his nose gently, moving it from side to side, watching him intently. He winced.

"It's broken, Severus", she said. "I think I can fix it, but I don't know for sure. Do you want to take the risk or do you want me to take you to the hospital?"

"No. You fix it".

"It won't look good", she said warningly. "Because I have no X rays to base on. You could need a surgery, you know?"

"You fix it", he repeated. "It never looked good anyway".

Torn between tears and cackles, Fiddler settled for smiling at his comment and bent forward to kiss the injured nose.

"Oh…", he drawled. "I am feeling better already".

"I am glad…", she murmured. "Because what I am about to do will hurt".

She turned to her first aid box and took out some adhesive strapping, some more gauzes and a plaster bandage, as well as a syringe and an amber ampule. She broke the ampule with expert movements, and filled the syringe with the liquid in it, placing the cap on the needle and setting it aside. She then walked back to Severus and placed both her palms to each side of his nose.

"Severus", she warned. "This _will hurt_, and you might feel the need to kick me. Just try not to knock me out, will you?"

Severus laughed and pulled her to him. He placed a soft kiss on her lips and murmured:

"Thank you".

"Yeah… Let's see if you still feel this thankful after a minute".

She resumed her previous position and clamped her hands together with Severus' nose between them. She then tugged it to one side, then to the other, and felt him tense, but not a sound came from his mouth. She did that a couple of times until they both heard a crack, and then some more blood came out from his left nostril.

"There", she said. "Now I have to immobilize it".

She cleaned the blood and measured the wideness of his nose with a gauze and placed it over the plaster bandage to fold it in about ten symmetric layers. She then made them wet in the sterile water and placed them over the bridge of his nose, holding it there until it fraguated. Finally she placed another gauze on top and fixed the whole thing with adhesive strapping.

"There you go", she said, eyeing her work. "Three weeks and you'll be good as new. Now, I am going to give you a shot for the pain".

"What?", his eyes widened.

"Oh, don't be such a crybaby. It won't hurt. Tell you what, if you behave, I'll give you a lollypop".

He raised his eyebrow inquiringly and she smiled.

"That's what I tell the children".

"And it works?", Severus seemed amazed.

"Sometimes. Usually not, but hey, I'm stronger than the brats".

Severus caught her in his arms and moved her to sit in his lap.

"You are not stronger than me", he murmured.

She nuzzled his neck softly and nodded.

"You're right, but I am sure I have my ways to convince you".

"Oh, I would not doubt it…", he cupped her chin and searched her mouth, but the movement hurt his splitted lip. He sighed and stopped kissing her, burying his head on her shoulder. His hands came up to release her hair, and he inhaled deeply as the heavy tendrils tumbled over his own head.

She heard him mutter a curse.

"What's wrong?"

"I cannot breath properly", he groaned.

"That's because your nose is swollen".

"Yes, well. I cannot kiss you, I cannot smell you… This is becoming frustrating".

She kissed him softly and settled more comfortably in his embrace, running her fingers through his hair. She was startled when his hand came up to stop her.

"It is filthy", he said, embarrassed.

"I don't mind", she said, holding out her other hand. He stopped it as well.

"But I do".

"Let's get you bathed then". She stood up and dragged him up with her. "But first, your shot", and without another warning she attacked his backside with a needle. He was beginning to think it really didn't hurt that much when she pushed the plunger and the liquid entered his body.

"Ow!", he exclaimed.

"Sorry, sorry, that was it", she apologized, placing the cap on the needle and throwing it away.

Severus frowned.

"You are going to have to reward me for that", he warned.

She looked at him and merely smiled. He watched her gather her healing things and clasped her hand tightly when she took his.

"Let's go", she said.

They went upstairs, and Fiddler went to prepare the bath, tossing handfuls of allspice, leopard's bane and thyme herbs. Soon the bathroom smelled like a gigantic tea cup. Severus walked in, wearing her bathrobe to see what she was doing and nodded approvingly.

"I am glad you know about Herbs".

"Mother's remedy", Fiddler replied. "It works wonders. Now get in".

"Oh, so you want me to strip for you".

She laughed.

"You know", Severus continued pensively. "If I do it, you will have to do it as well".

"Come on", she said, "the water's getting cold".

"You know what you must do, then", he grinned.

"Severus, really, we can't have sex in the tub. You'll get your cast wet and it will be useless".

"I see", his grin faded.

"Come on. Get inside". She helped him out of her robe and held her breath as she watched the assorted collection of lumps and bruises on his body.

"That bastard", she said fiercely. Severus looked at her with an odd expression, but said nothing. He stepped in the tub and slid slowly into the hot water, sighing as he leaned back and closed his eyes. He heard Fiddler drag a chair and felt her soft fingers in his head as he poured some water on it.

"Relax", he heard her voice behind him. She reached for the shampoo and poured some in her hand, working the lather through his hair, massaging his scalp, his shoulders and his upper back muscles with deft, soft movements. He let out a small moan of pleasure. She kept on with her tender massage for a while, and then let him soak in the herbal water until it got warm. She rinsed his hair and helped him out of the tub, his eyes closed as she dried him off with a huge towel. He felt too sagged to move to help her. He allowed her to led him to bed, and he only opened his eyes when he heard her voice again.

"Pijama or bare?", she asked practically.

"You know the deal", he murmured lazily.

"Pijama then", she decided, turning to her wardrobe to see if she could find a scrub that would fit him.

"Oh, Fiddler…", he sighed, and pulled her to him, letting his towel drop in the process. He caressed her jawline and neck, sliding both his hands up the hem of her scrub's top, running them across her sides, her stomach and her breasts, watching her giggle as he took the clothing away.

She shivered and Severus delighted in the sight of her nipples peaking through her sports top. He wrapped his arms around her, as he got rid of the top, and rubbed his chest against her bare breasts, pressing her to him with the hunger that was his brand.

They fell on the bed entangled, caressing each other impatiently, his hand going down to get rid of her scrub's bottom and underwear with one deft movement. He stroked her intimately, but, as he positioned himself on top of her, he let out a faint grunt of pain.

"I am sorry… I am not up to this", he sighed, rolling to his side and cradling Fiddler so her head rested on his chest. He petted her hair pensively, kneading at it, wrapping it around his fingers and splaying it over his torso, reveling in the softness of it against his skin. He remained silent for a while, but finally he brought himself to say it.

"You know what I find most remarkable?"

"No… what?", she mumbled.

"Two things, actually. The fact that you knew just where to find me, and the fact that not once have you asked me what happened".

She pressed her lips to his chest and said softly:

"I saw it".

"I thought as much", he kissed her dark head despite the pain on his lip and she tucked it under his chin.

"I didn't see the whole thing", she said, sleepily, gliding her fingers across his chest. "The contact broke… just before Malfoy tried to… force down the poison on you".

He cupped her chin and lifted her head to meet her eyes.

"It was you, then", he said, his voice thick.

She caressed his cheek and murmured:

"What was me?"

Severus breathed in deeply and said:

"When Malfoy approached me with the flask, he suddenly jerked as if someone had howled at him. I did not hear anything, but then again I was not precisely in my best shape either… The point is, Malfoy sent Crabbe and Goyle to investigate and turned back to me. He tried to hit me again, but his fist bounced off… It was as if I was inside a protective aura, and Malfoy could not touch me, let alone poison me. He used his wand then, and again, the curse bounced off".

"Did it hit him?", she asked hopefully.

"No".

"Pity". Fiddler closed her eyes. She seemed on the verge of sleep already.

"Indeed…"

"And what happened… next?", she murmured, snuggling closer to him.

"Well, of course, you will understand that, as Malfoy snapped my wand, I could not get anywhere without it… But this… aura… was magical enough to permit me to perform the spell and I was able to Disapparate. You saved me". He was looking at her as if she'd just fallen from a far-off planet. His hand was still caressing her hair slowly.

"Yes, well", he heard her drowsy voice. "That's what love is all about… isn't it?"

Severus' hand stopped abruptly.

"What?"

"Yes… you know… Love…", she was asleep already and his common sense told him he shouldn't wake her. But he had to be sure he'd heard right. It was the first time THE WORD had came up in their relationship and his heart was beating frantically.

He shook her slightly.

"Fiddler. Fiddler, wake up".

"Mmmm?"

"What did you just say?"

"I…", she shifted a little in his embrace, her arm across his chest tightening somewhat. She struggled to open her eyes and blinked. "What?"

"What you just said", Severus insisted. "When I told you you had saved me".

Fiddler frowned.

"Mmm… I said…", then it sunk in. "Oh. _Damn._ Nevermind. I shouldn't have".

"What?"

"I know you're not… comfortable with the subject. I— Just forget it".

"Fiddler. Speak clearly. Did you just say you love me?"

She remained silent for a long while and finally she nodded against his chest.

"Yes. I did. But you don't have to—"

He put a finger to her mouth to shush her, then replaced it with his mouth. Maybe the shot she'd given him earlier was beginning to work, or maybe the herbal waters had relaxed his pained body. Or maybe it was just the fact of hearing her diffident confession what took the pain out of him as he made love to her slowly, completely, and unselfishly.

_"Dilecta mea",_ two words fell from his mouth in the heights of passion, oddly reminiscent of his days as a Death Eater, when Latin was the common language, but then again, he had never called Wynn that. Not even in the beginning.

_Dilecta mea,_ my beloved.

As they lay together, sated in the afterglow, he told her with words what he'd already told her with his body:

"_Gráim thú,_ Fiddler Greene".

And he found out that, again, she was right. It was easier to say it in a foreign language.

**A/N.**

_Gráim thú:_ Gaelic for "I love you".

TBC, please R & R!!!!!

Thanx a lot to my kind beta Ian for his BRILLIANT thoughts!!!

Disclaimer: All characters and HP universe belong to J.K. Rowling, except for the ones you don't recognize. The plot as well is mine and solely mine!! No profit is being made!!!!


	22. Sleepwalker

Chapter 22 

**Sleepwalker**

Fiddler jumped awake, startling the big Merlin out of Severus.

"What is wrong?" he asked.

Fiddler blinked, trying to clear her sleepy brain, and relaxed as she noticed she was on her bed, not late for work, and with her head resting on the lap of a man with a cast to his nose, and some spectacular-looking bruises adorning his face. She smiled at him.

"I thought—"

"You were late", he finished. "I know. You did startle me, though".

She moved her head forward and kissed his navel, making him shiver. She thought idly that she must have been sound asleep indeed to not to have waken when he maneuvered her to rest on his lap, and she smiled again. She looked up at him and realised he had a book in his hands.

How weird.

"What are you reading?" she asked.

Severus took one of his large hands from the book he was holding and brought it to her hair.

"One of your Gaelic books".

"Oh? Any reason in particular?" it wasn't what he usually read.

"Yes, actually", he replied. "I am looking for an endearment for you".

Fiddler stared at him from his lap. She seemed beyond shocked and she was blushing violently. In fact, for a second there she seemed really close to tears, but she blinked them away.

"Why?" she asked instead, hoarsely.

"Well, because, despite your name being a marvelously fitting one, I got the sudden urge of finding a sweet nothing you'd like to hear".

She snorted and eyed him suspiciously, laughter gleaming in her eyes.

"Fine, then, you did not fall for it", Severus gave in.

Fiddler shook her head.

"You're not that kind of man".

"True. But still. Given the circumstances, I believe a proper pet name would not be amiss".

"The protocol step by step, I'd say", she mocked. "But then, _that's_ you indeed", and she kissed his abdomen again.

"True once more".

"And? What have you found?"

"Before I tell you, I want a promise from you. You will not laugh, you will not snort, you shall not argue, and you shall accept it".

"That's four promises", she observed.

"Fiddler".

"Oh, all right! I won't, happy now?"

"I will reserve my glee for a bit", he said, tersely.

Fiddler eyed him through half-lidded eyes and Severus, acting on instinct, leaned forward and, wrapping his arms around her, pulled her to him.

"So?" she raised an eyebrow.

_"Álainn",_ he whispered into her ear.

Fiddler tilted her head to one side to look at him. She was utterly speechless, but for once, it was Severus the one able to get into her head in the way that was her privilege. Just as he'd done in his dreams.

_Say something, Fiddler,_ some part of her mind was ordering her.

_I'm in bed with a rather dark man,_ the biggest part of her answered numbly. _I am lying on his arms, and he's just called me 'beautiful'. _How _am I supposed to react?_

_Say 'thank you', maybe. Or be you and roll your eyes at him. And while you're on it, laugh in his face as well._

_He made me promise not to, the devious Slytherin chap. _

Severus laughed helplessly, both at the way she'd called him and at the way she argued with herself. He tightened his arms around her and kissed her slowly, savoring every inch of her mouth.

"Right you are…" He mumbled in between kisses. "That I did…_ Álainn"._

He stretched the endearment, making it sound both suggestive and enticing, and Fiddler's skin broke in goose bumps. Severus slid his palms over her arms, reveling on her primal reaction.

"I find that… _so _arousing…", he rasped.

"What's… that…?"

"Your instincts…", he mouthed her neck. "Just beneath your skin. Unsuppressed. Waiting but for the slightest stimulation to surface…"

She corresponded his caresses, circling his nipples with her fingers, moving her head down to nibble his neck as well.

"Yes… Just… a couple of… lusty animals, are we…", she breathed. "Wonder… what would… the kids say… if… if… the could see us…"

Severus' lips stilled over her skin and he groaned against it.

"Now, that was a passion-killer".

Fiddler chuckled unable to help herself, and kissed him apologetically. After a moment's time of passionate kisses, Severus decided she'd earned his clemency, and he laid her on the crumpled sheets, positioning himself on top of her with urgent movements, to love her ardently and thoroughly, until the both of them exploded in ecstasy.

They lay, sagged but sated, arms and legs entangled, hands and lips still caressing each other in the comfortable silence that reigned between them. Severus was starting to doze off when he heard Fiddler's voice.

"Come again?", he mumbled.

"I said, what happened before what I saw?", she repeated.

Severus sighed, wondering where to start.

Or whether he should start at all.

   He held Fiddler to him, pillowing his chin on her head, breathing in the scent of her hair, and opened his mouth to speak.

"Would you rather to see it for yourself?" was what came out.

He raised her face to look at him.

"Only if you want to".

He gave her a lopsided smile and made a small inviting gesture.

And Fiddler took it.

  They were gathered round a gloomy-looking bonfire. They were all wearing black cloaks and silver masks, all of them but one. Carnavon Ludlow stood amidst his minions, imponent in his Smokey-gray robe, his face uncovered, his eyes full of hatred and fixed on the flames. He was whispering a deafening elegy that could have been heartbreaking if it hadn't been for his eyes.

They all praised Wynn's sacrifice and cursed her death. One of the dark forms turned his eyes to fix them on one of his companions, and Fiddler recognized in him the lean form and wide shoulders of Severus Snape.

The ceremony continued for hours, none of them faltering in the least, and Fiddler could tell Severus was just waiting for the right time to make his move. But he also knew his presence hadn't gone unnoticed. A wisp of platinum blonde hair had escaped from the hood of the man that still surveyed Severus intently, and Fiddler thought, sardonically: _"Well, boo-hoo. Like a false Penny". _

And then, Carnavon did something of the worst taste, from Fiddler's point of view: He produced glittering smoke from the tip of his wand and shaped it to resemble Wynn.

_Oh, come on!_

The ghostly Wynn glided among the Death Eaters like a Queen, and the worst part of it, in Fiddler's opinion, was that they actually worshiped as if she was alive. But she only remained for a while. Then, things turned the Death Eater's version of cheerfulness, and Malfoy was soon drawn from the contemplation of Severus by the insistent tug that a very pretty, young-looking Death Eater female gave at his arm. She dragged him around in a frantic dance that, Fiddler thought, oddly resembled a tonic-clonic seizure… or a very twisted Kamasutra position.

Severus seized his chance and Fiddler watched him glide towards the house stealthily, until he reached the library and begun browsing through the books systematically. Fiddler could tell he was growing impatient as he didn't find what he was looking for, but still he didn't lose control and kept on opening books, trying bookshelves and magically locked crystal cases to no success whatsoever. Fiddler watched him put his wand away with a sigh and then turn hastily as he heard Lucius Malfoy's derisive voice:

"Lost something, my dear old friend?"

He seemed to revel in Severus' ugly expression and held out a hand to shush him.

"No, no, do not bother on answering…"

Malfoy walked elegantly towards Severus and smacked him playfully on the cheek.

"So", he drawled. "Did your bitch send you?"

Severus stiffened but didn't answer.

"I thought so", Malfoy said smugly. "You've fallen low this time, though. Honestly, Severus, after Wynn… A _Muggle?_"

He sounded utterly heartbroken and suddenly Fiddler wanted to laugh.

"But we won't discuss such disgusting matters under this roof", Malfoy went on. "What you are looking for is here no more. It has been placed on a secure location… With trustworthy elements guarding it".

_Which means you have it, you dunce,_ Fiddler decoded his smug statement.

"So it is under your custody now, is it not?", Severus echoed her own thoughts.

"Well, I am glad to see cheap sex hasn't dulled your sense".

Severus didn't react at the brutal way in which Malfoy spat those words, and Fiddler felt somewhat outraged.

Be sensible, Fiddler, the git's taunting him, you don't honestly expect him to challenge Malfoy over this on a duel.

But some part of her did. A very girlish, flashy part of her that was quickly smothered by her sensible side.

"Why did you leave the Remembrance?" Malfoy was still speaking. "Feeling guilty, perhaps?"

"You are loosing your touch, Malfoy", Severus said in a tired voice, "is there anything I can do for you?"

"Yes, actually", Malfoy said. He took another step forward and added, almost casually: _"Expelliarmus"._

Severus' wand flew from his pocket despite his efforts to catch it in mid-air. Malfoy caught it smoothly and snapped it in two pieces with deliberate slow movements and then turned to Severus again.

_"Crucio",_ he hissed, and Fiddler watched the man that had become the most important part of her life writhe in pain on the elegant parquet floor.

        She didn't realise her hands were curled into white-knuckled fists until she felt Severus gently plying her fingers open with his own, rubbing them softly and lacing them together.

"The rest of it, you've already seen it", Severus mumbled.

Fiddler freed one of her hands from Severus' hold and caressed his chest hesitantly.

"Are you OK?"

"I am", Severus said dismissively. "It is not the first time I have been under it".

"Oh, Severus".

"Do not go soft on me, _álainn_", he admonished, half serious and half playful. "I like you zesty".

She laughed against his skin and he trembled in delight.

"I'm sorry. I just can't help to think—"

He put a finger to her lips.

"Don't. We already have Molly Weasley to play the fatalistic role in this house".

Fiddler laughed again.

"So you couldn't get the ingredients".

Severus eyed her somewhat scornfully, his long time demeanor getting the best out of him.

"Obviously I did not".

"Well then. I am only saying so because we could use Dung or the Twins…"

Severus shivered despite himself.

"Oh, I know you think they won't succeed if you couldn't, but trust me, they have hidden skills".

"If you say so".

Fiddler glanced at the clock guiltily and sighed.

"We should get out of bed", she said.

Severus raised an eyebrow.

"I do not see a reason to do so", he replied silkily. "If anything, I am an injured man and I should remain in bed, being taken care of by a qualified medical practitioner".

"Is that so?" Fiddler asked mischievously. "Do you want your breakfast in bed and everything?"

"Fiddler", he said, boring into her eyes. "I only want you in my bed".

She blushed, as usual, and looked away. He cupped her face and made her meet his gaze.

"Why is it that you cannot accept compliments?"

"I— Don't know. I just can't. Can we drop it?"

"No, we cannot. I think we need to settle this once and for all".

"I—"

"Shush. Let me speak. Fiddler, I do not usually say this, but I feel you need to sort things out. Whatever it is that happened to you to make you feel this particular way, I believe you need to see things objectively and realise the true worth in you".

She snorted.

"Do not argue with me", he admonished. "Honestly, Fiddler, do you not see? You're one of a kind, a rare—"

"Yeah, my Mum used to say originality is closely related to ugliness".

"Is that your problem?"

"Well, it has always been the condition _sine qua non_ to be accepted in my family. If they reject me, what can I expect from the rest of the world…"

"They are not your family, Fiddler".

"Genetically, no. But socially, they are, and I grew up with their rejection. I was brought up with the concept of beauty equaling love. Hence…", she shrugged and raised her shoulders.

"All right. So you are not breathtakingly beautiful", Severus said with the honesty that was his brand. "But, you are not a hag, either. I've met worst".

"And better".

He rolled his eyes impatiently.

"You won't let it go, will you?"

"I am sorry…. I can't blame you, really… But…"

"I did not mean to call out her name, Fiddler".

"I know, Severus. I don't hold you responsible… Not fully, at least… But I can't help to feel bad about it. And to wonder what is it that you see in me".

"I could ask you the same question", he said.

"Nice way to avoid the answer", she smiled, and he mirrored it.

They moved towards each other without thinking and they kissed softly.

"It is… hard to… answer", he said, gasping for breath, after a while. "Not enough… words".

She nodded silently and stretched to reach the CD player.

"Well, I hope this song will help you", she murmured, leaning back against him. Severus circled his arm around her and listened to the soprano voice accompanied by flutes, guitars and violins.

Close your eyes  
Feel the ocean where passion lies  
Silently the senses  
Abandon all defenses  
  
The place between sleep and awake  
End of innocence  
Unending masquerade  
That's where I'll wait for you  
  
Hold me, near you  
So closely, sear you  
Seeing, believing  
Dreaming, deceiving  
  
Sleepwalker seducing me  
I dared to enter your ecstasy  
Lay yourself now down to sleep  
In my dreams you're mine to keep  
  
Sleepwalker

When the song had finished, he looked at her, without words. Again, he realised, she always skipped flashiness and rosy words. It truly amazed him how she could manage to send out her feelings without making him feel awkward.  She returned his gaze, unfaltering, and smiled.

"See? Sometimes it's not that hard".


	23. Higher than Hope my Cure Lies

**Chapter 23 **

**Higher than Hope my cure lies **

Eventually, Severus and Fiddler managed to get out of bed. They went downstairs, holding hands without really thinking about it, and it was only when they took in Ron's disgruntled gaze that they quickly untwined their fingers.

"Sweet gargoyles, Snape, what on Earth happened to you?" exclaimed Tonks at the sight of him.

Severus' jaw tensed, but surprisingly enough, he held back his tongue.

"Well, it seems like Fiddler knocked the crap out of him", George said and the kitchen broke in mirth.

"Ha, ha, ha", Fiddler said. "So hilarious, George, really. Actually, it was good old Lucius Malfoy who did it, and thus Severus was unable to collect the—"

But she couldn't finish the sentence as they started talking all at once, wondering what was there to be done now that Severus' façade had been blown up, asking themselves whether Dumbledore knew about it or not, and a myriad of nonsense which soon was lost in a Babel of voices.

"Shush, all of you", Harry said at last. "Let's not waste time in nonsense. All we need to discuss right now is what are we going to do to get that damn book".

Severus found himself agreeing with Potter, and he shrugged at the mere thought. It was preposterous, but he had to admit the drat kid was right.

"I was thinking… Maybe Dung could do it?" Fiddler said dubiously.

"Well, if anyone can steal it, that's him, sure", Ron said.

"Thank you, Mr. Weasley", Severus said with his silky voice.

Ron blushed horribly and tried to stutter an apology, but much to his abysmal surprise, Severus' lips stretched into an approximation of a smile, as he walked towards the kitchen table to help himself to a cup of tea. They gathered round, eating breakfast in what, for once was an amiable silence, until Hermione's brows knitted and she said thoughtfully:

"It surprises me, you know? That's taken him so long to find out your true colors, Professor".

"Does it really, Miss Granger?" Severus replied, dripping sarcasm.

"Well… I mean, think about it… He should have realized you weren't with him anymore when you tried to stop Quirrell, since, as you surely recall, Voldemort was currently residing in the back of Quirrell's head".

Ron raised his eyes to fix them on Hermione.

"You're right… I never thought of that before… So it surely means…" but he went quiet.

"And", Hermione added then, "In our fourth year, when Voldemort returned and gathered his Death Eaters at the graveyard, you didn't attend, and Harry said he heard Voldemort say you were to be killed… So… how come you managed to fool him so afterwards?"

Severus didn't answer directly.

"How do you know I was not there?"

"Well… Well…", Hermione hesitated for the first time. "Harry said… Voldemort— Voldemort said one of the Death Eaters was missing and that he believed he'd left forever… therefore he was to be killed… So we all assumed— Um— That is to say—"

"I was there", Severus replied smoothly. "Who else do you think reactivated the Portkey back to Hogwarts?"

Harry's jaw dropped.

"It was _you?"_ he wailed, torn between shock and disbelief.

"Of course. When have you ever heard of a two-way Portkey? It needs to be reactivated in order to travel back".

"That's true", Ron said. "Remember the Quidditch World Cup and how we had to wait for that Ministry bloke to set the Portkey ready instead of just grabbing one and getting the Hell out of there?"

The rest of them nodded.

"But how—How—", Harry stammered, although Fiddler knew he really wanted to ask why.

"You will never pay attention in Potions, won't you, Potter? Polyjuice Potion, of course".

Everybody stared at him, truly amazed at the fact that Severus Snape was actually sharing his secrets with them.

"Whom did you impersonate?", Lupin asked quietly.

Severus raised an eyebrow at him, and for a minute there it seemed like he wouldn't answer.

"Mainly, Death Eaters who were low in rank… Easily disposable. The Dark Lord could not keep track of them all, hence, I would use them to disguise myself and blend amongst his minions… I was able to impersonate Crouch, Junior, even if it was only for the smallest amount of time… He was useful enough until Fudge couldn't keep his mouth shut and told Malfoy about him being Kissed… it was a close shot. It was then, I believe, when Malfoy began to suspect me… for real."

"But… But… Voldemort— Don't be such a wimp, Ron… Voldemort knows you're not with him anymore, doesn't he?" Ginny blurted out suddenly.

Severus caught Fiddler's eyes fixed on him and looked away, blinking rapidly.

"He knows… he always knows" he murmured.

"So why then did you go up there as yourself?" Ginny insisted, puzzled.

_Dressed as one, a wolf will betray a Lamb._

Fiddler's voice echoed in Severus' head, and he suddenly wondered who had been the wolf, and who had been the lamb.

"Foolhardy boldness, I guess", he confessed quietly. "And lack of an appropriate Death Eater to impersonate… Not to mention the impossibility to brew the Polyjuice Potion".

Fiddler snorted at the subtle sarcasm in his voice. So did Tonks. A moment's silence followed Severus' remark and then Lupin said, apparently to himself.

"We owe you a great deal, then".

But everyone heard.

"Think nothing of it", Severus said curtly. "I assure you I am not doing it for you".

Fiddler shook her head, fighting to keep her hands away from Severus'. She sighed. She wasn't good when it came to accepting compliments, but Severus certainly beat her to it.

"Nevertheless", Lupin insisted.

Silence now was a bit tense.

"So!" George exclaimed genially. "You want us to contact Dung, then?"

"That would be good", Fiddler said. "He's our only hope now".

"We're doomed then", Moody growled, and for once, Severus joined them in their mirth.

"You'd be surprised", said Fred.

Moody snorted disdainfully.

"Don't worry, Fidd, we'll handle it", George assured her.

"And we'll also prevent our good Severus here to get the stuffing knocked out of him for the sake of World's peace", Fred added to everyone's mirth. "Although", he finished, thoughtfully, "I am sure it has its benefits, am I right, Sev?" and he eyed both Severus and Fiddler with glittering eyes.

"_Severus"_, he bit every letter, but his awful blush gave him away anyway.

"Yes, of course, man. Sorry about that".

"Yeah… We'll contact Dung", George concluded. "We have to, anyway, as we need to discuss—"

"GEORGE!" Fred wailed.

"Discuss what?" Molly asked suspiciously.

"Nothing, Mum… Simply some arrangements that we must see to".

"Arrangements, George Weasley? What _sort_ of arrangements?"

"Molly", Arthur intervened, "Molly, they're of age now. You can't—"

"They're dealing with stolen goods!"

"WE'RE NOT!"

"Quiet, for Heaven's sake!" Hermione said and everyone turned to look at her.

"Uh, sorry, Your Highness!" said Ron, and he was quick enough to duck and dodge the fist that went straight to his nose.

"Don't be a prat, Ron", Harry said impatiently. "Can't you hear it?"

"Hear what?"

"It's a bird", Fiddler said, tilting her head to one side and looking remarkably like Triskelion.

"Bird? Where? I don't—"

"Shhhh!"

"Blimey, I don't see the need to fuss 'bout a bloody bird—"

"It's Fawkes", Harry said quietly.

Triskelion shot forward, all hair and claws, barking madly at the chimney, inside of which Fawkes had suddenly appeared, carrying a black leather book in its beak. Fiddler bent over to pick up the hysterical dog, and snorted as she looked the book in the phoenix's beak, and the bruised man beside her.

"Couldn't he have done that in the first place?" she said a little angrily.

Severus turned to see her and said.

"He must have his reasons".

"Yeah, God works in mysterious ways, right? No wonder why He's running out of adepts…" Fiddler's tone was dangerous now.

"Fiddler…"

"You could have been _killed"_, she replied, voice low and trembling. "And _he_ could have gotten it all along!"

"I know the feeling", Harry mumbled and they laughed nervously.

Fawkes eyed them thoughtfully and walked towards Severus to give him the book. He took it and flicked through the pages until he found a rather battered sheet marked with withered, nasty-smelling leaves. Fawkes nudged him with his left claw and Severus took the letter attached to it. He read it in silence, surrounded by the curious gazes of the others. They were amazed when they heard him laugh.

"He says he owes you an apology, Fiddler", Severus said at last. "And that Mundungus Fletcher was 'merely passing by', when he seized his chance…"

They laughed at that, and Fiddler's brow returned to its normal appearance.

"That man kills me, really. OK, let me see that, I must let the guys know so they can get started".

Severus watched her intently as she browsed through the gothic letters of the recipe. Her brow creased once more and her right eyebrow lifted in her very own half-sardonic-half-inquiring gesture. She reached idly for pen and paper and began taking notes with her curly writing. Every once and then she'd nod and smile as if she'd just confirmed something, and, finally, curiosity got the best out of Ron, who asked her to share it with the rest of them. He regretted it, as everyone else did, because Fiddler showered them with a complicate explanation involving weird substances, even stranger action mechanisms, and awful things happening to both cells and neuromuscular junctions, whatever those were. She established an obscure comparison between something called acetylcholine and the _Imperius_ curse, stating that that substance was surely affected during the curse's course of action; she also mentioned a couple of Muggle medications used in the treatment of some disease called Myasthenia Gravis and she expressed her beliefs that they could be of aid on resisting the _Imperius_ course.

She then moved to Potassium cyanide and paralleled it with _Cruciatus_ curse, once again confusing them by telling them how Cyanide released certain painful substances into the bloodstream, same substances that could be released during _Cruciatus_, and again she named some more Muggle drugs destined to prevent pain.

"Blimey", said Ron when Fiddler finally ran out of breath. "I thought only Hermione did that".

"One of the beauties of life, Ron Weasley", said Fiddler sardonically, "is that you'll always find a rational explanation for everything."

Hermione grinned smugly.

"Thank you!"

Fiddler mirrored her smile, but Ron carried on.

"But there are some things you can't explain", he said, stubbornly. "Magic itself is unfathomable at its best".

"Because there's no research done", replied Fiddler. "Come on, did any of you ever thought of what I just said? No. You just go on believing you must go through _cruciatus _and _Avada Kedavra_, without bothering on searching for alternative ways of blocking it. Not everything's about magic, you know, you can get some help from where you least expect it".

"She sounds like Albus", Arthur said gleefully.

"So you're saying we should blend Medicine and Magic in order to find a counter-curse for the Unforgivables?" asked Harry.

"That's what I am saying. And we need Dumbledore's approval to do it… I am fairly certain what I told you about _Cruciatus _and_ Imperius_ will work. But as for the Killing Curse… I would need to conduct some more research. Does anyone know if someone's ever performed an autopsy on someone hit by it?"

"They did it…" Arthur Weasley started ruefully. "On Riddle's Father and Grandparents". He went silent for a while and then added: "They didn't find anything abnormal".

"But that was fifty years ago", said Tonks.

"Maybe they didn't know what to look for", said Hermione reasonably.

"And that's the only time they've done such thing?"

"Yes… To our knowledge".

"The point is, Fiddler, you just can't overlook magic", insisted Ron. "No matter what, there's simply no counteract for the Killing Curse. That's why it is Unforgivable… There's no way of avoiding death".

"I grant you that one. But. _If_ we block whatever it is that the curse causes in the body", Hermione said before Fiddler could talk, "it would be like wearing a bullet-proof vest. I mean, surely, no one can dodge bullets but it makes you feel safer knowing that you're wearing one of those".

"Unless they shoot you in the head", said the twins at unison and even Severus laughed, although he wasn't quite sure what a bullet-proof vest was.

But Fiddler was glad that at least Hermione had got her point right.

"It's just like Hermione said", she spoke. "But to find out what does_ Avada Kedavra_ do, I need someone who's been hit by it, so I can perform the autopsy and— What?" she asked, when she took in the others' disgruntled looks. She then realised her previous words had been more than a little callous. "Oh, come on, guys, I wasn't suggesting you'd volunteer for it, I merely said—"

" 'S OK, Fiddler, we get it", said George.

"I think we'll have to use an animal, if anything", said Harry, fully meaning to get to work immediately.

"An… an animal?" mumbled Fiddler, holding Triskelion to her chest.

Severus found it amusing that she could speak so calmly about humans being placed under the Unforgivables and yet she shuddered at the perspective of harming an animal for the sake of their investigation. Now that he thought of it, it was a common brand to all psychopathic dictators he'd heard or read about: Lenin, Hitler, Grindewald… maybe even Voldemort.

Dumbledore was right, Fiddler Greene was one scary character.

He caught her bright eyes fixed on him and realised she had seen through his mind like an open book. But she didn't fret. She merely bowed at him and sent him a thought from her own head:

Red Sun rising,  
Drown without inhaling.  
Within, the dark holds hard,  
Higher than hope my cure lies.

And it was then when he understood Fiddler's insistence on finding a counter-curse. She recognized the evil in herself, and she was struggling to get rid of it. Just as he'd done…

Once.

"Well, yeah", Ron was saying just then. "An animal. We don't have a choice, do we? Now, who here can cast _Avada Kedavra?"_

Everyone turned to look at Severus, to find that he had his gaze fixed almost unwillingly on Harry.

"Bad idea", said Fiddler as if reading his thoughts. "It might bounce off again and hit you, and _I _certainly _don't_ want that to happen".

They laughed at it, except for Harry and Severus, who cleared his throat and looked away.

"There are two minor difficulties, though", he drawled. "For one, I don't have a wand… And we've been forbidden by the Headmaster to perform magic… remember?"

Fiddler's face fell.

"Oh… Right. Damn. Such a pity. How am I supposed to carry on with my research, then?"

The answer to that question came around two days later.


	24. I weep to have what I fear to lose

**Chapter 24 **

**I weep to have what I fear to lose**

Fiddler was in the Hospital's parking lot, feeling rather queasy and exhausted after a trying ship at the ER. She was thinking of nothing in particular as she stuffed her things carelessly into the van, and she only registered with half her brain the stifled moans and urgent whispers that came from somewhere to her left. She raised her head to listen more carefully, because for a minute there, the female's voice had sounded oddly like Anna's.

Fiddler rolled her eyes, wondering if Anna would ever change, and knowing better. She turned off the Van's alarm and hauled her right foot to climb inside when a rather pained grunt made her stop in midmotion. She hesitated for half a second. From previous chats with her, Fiddler was aware Anna liked it rough; hence she wasn't sure she wouldn't interrupt 'something' if she walked by to ask Anna if she was all right. Then again, the thought of the stalking stranger she'd mentioned floated on the back of Fiddler's mind, and at long last, her medical instinct won, so she shut the Van door as quietly as she could, and tiptoed towards the trunk, to retrieve the Smith & Wesson her adoptive dad used to carry along, and that she'd never bothered to remove from the car since he died. She checked it and made sure it was loaded, even as her mind was yelling her to put the gun down and get the heck out of there, and then turned the alarm back on using the mute button on her remote, as she strode stealthily towards the assumed origin of the sound.

"Let—Go—Of—", Anna was gagging, trying her best to breathe through the tight grip a air of gloved hands had on her neck.

"Let go of her", Fiddler heard her own voice and barely recognized it. "I won't say it twice. I am armed".

She held the S&W more firmly with both hands as the strangling man turned to look at her. His face was entirely covered by a mask, but Fiddler recognized those cold, pale eyes at once. And he knew she had, from the way she took a step backwards for support and aimed at him challengily.

"Release her".

He was fast as lightning. He produced his wand from somewhere inside his heavy black cloak and raised it, pointing at Fiddler. She held his gaze and didn't falter, although she was trembling inside.

_Oh, that was BRILLIANT of you, Fiddler, really._

"Fiddler—", Anna choked out. "Fiddler— It's him, the—"

But she never got to finish the sentence. Footsteps and people talking could be heard coming out of the elevator, and Malfoy didn't hesitate. He cast one last hateful glance at Fiddler and she knew at once that a mightier force was preventing him from harming her. She let out an involuntary, relieved breath…

And two seconds later, a blinding flash of green light rose in the dark parking lot, and when Fiddler could see again, Malfoy was long gone, and Anna was lying on the wet, dirty floor, by her car, limp as a discarded cloth… With the paleness of death already creeping over her.

Fiddler had to think fast. The elevator crowd would reach them in no time, and she was, to say the least, in a rather compromising position, with a gun in her hands, aiming at no one and with a corpse on the floor. She saved the distance to her own car in three long strides and put the gun safely out of sight inside the trunk. She closed it hastily and walked back to where Anna lay. She crouched by her side and tried to find out who was approaching.

"Hey, Jerry!" she called a minute later, as she would have addressed him at the ER. "Come here for a sec, will you? I think Anna's not feeling well".

The resident nodded swiftly and sprinted towards his superior. He kneeled by Anna's other side and felt for a pulse.

He blanched.

"Doctor Greene", he whispered. "She's—"

"I _know_ she is", Fiddler replied curtly. "But of course, you didn't expect me to yell it at the four winds, did you?"

"No… no.".

"Good. Help me out, will you? We need to issue her back into the hospital".

For half a second, Jerry was in the verge of asking what good would that was the use of it then, but Fiddler gave him such a withering look that he mumbled instead:

"I'll get the orderlies".

Once Anna Willoughby was properly pronounced, bagged and tagged, Fiddler was finally able to sneak her into an autopsy room and begin with the procedure. She didn't want to put a delay on it in case time would issue modifications on the corpse, thus obscuring the real cause of death, so she simply called home and let Arthur know what had happened and asked him to tell Severus she'd be late. She didn't mention her stupid heroin delusions for she knew (and she was right), that Severus would freak.

Fiddler walked towards the autopsy table and felt a sudden surge of nausea. It passed quickly enough and she set to work, trying not to think it was her jolly redhead friend she was currently cutting open.

Time went by unnoticed and Fiddler grew more frustrated by the minute.

Nothing seemed to be wrong with Anna, and Fiddler's Irish stubbornness was incensed. _Of course_ there had to be something abnormal! One just didn't drop dead without even the slightest damage to at least one vital organ!

But there seemed to be none.

She even had Mulligan from the Nuclear department to come down and run some specific tests on a slice of Anna's brain, to no results whatsoever. No mysterious poisons, no altered neurotransmitters, not even some bloody coke she could blame it upon, but Fiddler wasn't about to give up. She dissected Anna's digestive tract and found nothing more interesting than a half digested contraceptive pill. She went further down and realized with something akin to shock that Anna had uterus didelphus, two sets of Fallopian tubes and rather hypertrophic ovaries. Fiddler wondered if that'd explain Anna's horny nature, and decided she was better off not knowing.

She seized Anna's gallbladder only to throw it aside in a fit of crankiness, as she didn't find anything of interest. She chopped the liver and splein to tiny pieces and considered making a stew with them, but nausea clutched her once more and she told herself off for her cruelty and stupidity, both of them enhanced by lack of glucose.

But suddenly all thoughts were pushed aside as Fiddler reached Anna's heart.

"Bingo".

She turned on the tape recorder and began to speak.

"The subject's cardiac muscle is big and soft, heavy with static blood. Aortic and Pulmonary valves are shut, but both left and right atrioventricular valves are not, thus suggesting diastolic arrest. On a closer examination—", Fiddler held the heart against the light, "the four cardiac chambers are dilated, and it certainly does not appear to be a chronic condition. No fibrosis is observed, and…" she cut the heart open, "There are clots in both atriums, but no evidence whatsoever of pulmonary thromboembolism".

She went silent for a minute, lost in thoughts, weighing possibilities, and at last, there was light.

"WILSON!" she voiced.

A dark haired man poked his head through the door.

"You called?"

"Yeah, I did. Will you measure her serum potassium levels for me?" Fiddler said, pointing at Anna.

Wilson shrugged and eyed Fiddler pensively.

"For Heaven's sake, Fiddler, it's Anna… I can't—"

"Fine, then! Give me the needle" Fiddler sighed. "I'll collect it for you".

And so she did, handing the sample back to Wilson a few minutes later.

"I need the results yesterday", she said, and she meant it. "I'll be waiting".

Wilson nodded stiffly and only returned when he made sure Anna was properly stitched and covered.

"Well?" Fiddler prompted.

"Hyperkalemia".

Fiddler nodded as though she was expecting that answer.

"How much?"

"15".

"Holy mother of God!" she almost wailed. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Double-checked it. But… Why, though? Did she have renal insufficiency?" it was the only condition he could think of that could produce such an alteration.

"Not that I knew of", said Fiddler.

"Then… what was it? Was she on drugs?"

"No, I checked. No, Wilson… I think it was rhabdomyolisis".

"Uh?"

"It's a disorder that causes muscle cells to break down and release a harmful byproduct which is called myoglobin into the bloodstream. Myoglobin, in excessive concentrations, can lead to kidney failure and death. And, amongst other things, it causes massive hyperkalemia".

"Ahh! And what causes it?"

"A number of things, actually… But in Anna's case, it might have been myoglobinuria or another strange genetic syndrome", lied Fiddler. "Oh, well. May she rest in peace".

And she left the lab clutching the tape recorder and Anna's potassium levels in her hand.

§§§

"Are you INSANE?" Severus bellowed, his hands trembling. He could not believe the gall of Fiddler. "You— You— Lucius Malfoy is _dangerous,_ Fiddler, how could you just point a gun at him?"

He fell onto the nearest chair and eyed her angrily. He was worried to death about her, and at the same time, utterly relieved to see her back home, with not so much as a scratch on her pale skin. It reminded him forcibly of Potter and his accursed habit of surviving things no others would or should have.

"What did you expect?" Fiddler asked, matching his tone. "That I'd just walk away and let him do his will?"

Severus didn't answer, but it was obvious that was exactly what he would have expected.

"I hate to say it, Fidd", Harry said, "But Sn— Professor Snape is right. You just can go about challenging Death Eaters, you'll meet a sticky end".

"Look who's talking", said Ron grimly and they laughed despite themselves.

"The point is, nothing happened", Fiddler said dismissively, "and, I was able to find—" she stopped because she sensed Severus was about to say something, but apparently he gave it a second thought for he remained silent, so she carried on. "I know now what happens when the Killing curse is cast— Massive hyperkalemia".

Everyone stared at her, obviously nonplussed.

"Uh?" Ron said at last.

"Hyperkalemia… Well, we won't go into a full lesson of body electrolytes just now, but this particular condition occurs when the level of potassium in the bloodstream is higher than normal".

"And what's wrong with that?", insisted Ron.

Hermione rolled her eyes, as Fiddler carried on.

"Hyperkalemia can have serious, potentially life-threatening effects on the body. A gradual increase in potassium, as may occur with chronic renal failure, may be better tolerated than a sudden increase, which usually causes death without further notice".

"Ah".

"High serum potassium usually causes nausea, progressive weakness, irregular heartbeat that quickly evolves into bradycardia, complete heart block, ventricular fibrillation and diastolic arrest".

"I didn't understand a word you just said", Harry said ruefully, "but it sounds threatening enough".

The twins laughed.

"I'm sorry", Fiddler apologized. "I am used to talk like that. What I meant to say was that hyperkalemia causes the heart to stop in diastole, which is when the cardiac chambers are relaxed since they're getting blood that will soon be expelled through the aorta into the body".

"But all those changes are only visible whilst the person is still alive, aren't they?", Hermione asked, seeing where Fiddler was heading, "which means…"

"That once the person's dead, he's unmarked, apparently undamaged… Just like someone hit by the Killing Curse", Harry finished quietly.

"And it is quite hard to detect as well", Fiddler said. "Mainly because the patient's blood clots shortly after death, makin it almost impossible to collect a sample… And even more because, in the final stages of agony, no matter what brought it to happen, copious amounts of potassium are realeased into the bloodstream due to cellular anoxia… It is a good way of murdering someone… It'll go undetected unless you search for it specifically".

"As you did".

"Yes. It was her heart that put me in the right track, actually… Diastolic arrest… It's just typical".

"And? Is there a whay of lowering potassium levels?", asked Tonks, voicing what they were all thinking.

"We usually see this condition in patients with chronic renal failure", said Fiddler. "So we usually lower their potassium levels either by peritoneal dialysis or even hemodialysis".

"Sounds nasty", said Ron.

"It is", Fiddler agreed, "and of course, not useful for our current situation… What we need is something that will prevent potassium from escaping the cells, or even something that will put it back inside if it gets out. What we call anti-hyperkalemia measures".

"Which are?", asked Severus, sensing they were approaching a field he could actually understand.

"Well… we normally use Insulin injections are used to treat hyperkalemia in emergency situations. Insulin is a hormone well known for its ability to stimulate the entry of sugar into cells, which also happens to carry potassium with it, thus decreasing its concentration in the blood… We also use calcium gluconate, Bicarbonate and either Albuterol or Salbutamol… they've proven to be effective in some cases. We mix all that into an intravenous solution and it takes from ten to thirty minutes to begin its action, which lasts for approximately six hours. As for non-emergency situations, the patient can be given a special resin to bind potassium ions. One such resin, sodium polystyrene sulfonate, best known as Kayexalate, remains in the intestines, where it absorbs potassium and forms a complex of resin and potassium. But, the correction of hyperkalemia with resin treatment takes at least 24 hours."

Severus nodded, although all the Muggle medications she'd mentioned had left him nonplussed to say the least.

"You said intravenous, didn't you?" Pointed out Fred.

"Well, somehow I can't picture Harry facing Voldemort with a tripod and an IV line on tow", George added, much to everyone else's mirth.

"You're right, George", Fiddler said, "and here's when we use magic. You see, I was thinking we should make that anti-hyperkalemia solution drinkable, turn it into a magical potion that will be effective against a curse which can be cast at will. So that's the story… and what we must do".

And they certainly did, only it wasn't as easy as it had sounded.

They tried different amounts of the Muggle medications Fiddler got from the hospital, mixed them in sorbitol and dextrose at 5%, only to find out they were either insufficient or otherwise inactivated by gastric enzymes or intestinal bugs; they added the resin with the funny name and Ron got his brows turned blue; they started from scratch again and put the Kayexalate first of all, and the cauldron melted. Nearly in the verge of hysteria, they did it all over again, and tried mixing it with the Eternus Vita Potion Severus had brewed, only to set half of Fiddler's kitchen on fire. Severus was ready to jump out of the window when Mulligan made and overemotional phone call to let Fiddler know he'd found the chromosomal abnormality, which permitted Death Eaters to survive Cyanide.

"It wasn't hard to find once I thought of it", Mulligan confessed. "It is a mutation that resembles the one seen in Tay-Sachs Disease, even the same chromosome involved, number 15. Only this one doesn't affect polypeptide alpha, but â–2. It's rather new and a wonderful discovery, modesty aside…

"Anyway, this will sound absurd to you, Nazi, but apparently people affected by this mutation simply seem to have developed and alternate way of mytochondrial breathing, which is why cyanide won't affect them… There's simply nothing it can block. Does that make any sense?"

"It does", said Fiddler, eyeing Severus from her spot on the lounge. "Thanks a lot, Mulligan, I owe you more than I can tell you".

"Hey, don't thank me, just be sure to mention me in your research", Mulligan replied eagerly.

"Will do", said Fiddler, feeling a sudden pang of guilt at Mulligan's hopeful voice.

But it didn't last long.

She approached Severus and informed him of the latest news, letting him know as well that she'd need a sample of his blood to add it to the boiling mess Hermione and Moody were currently concocting for the umpteenth time. Everyone gathered round to watch as Fiddler extracted enough blood to fill a small bag from Severus' Dark-marked arm, and Harry rejoiced inwardly as he saw his former Potions Master pale and tilt to one side, threatening to faint on them, joy that was quickly replaced by shock and disbelief when he witnessed Fiddler run back swiftly to hold him and prevent him from falling.

She led him to the nearest couch, laid him down and propped his feet on a bunch of pillows. She then made him drink a sweetened beverage and instructed him to stay there while she added the blood to the cauldron before it clotted and became useless.

The simmering potion hissed in a very satisfactory way, telling everybody in the room that they were finally on the good path. Now, all that remained, it seemed, was to send Dumbledore the potion so he could instill his own magic in it, and Fawkes, it turned out, was more than willing to do the task.

§

That night, after making love, Severus lay flat on his back, his heart still drumming in his ears. The ever-present CD player filled their room with one of Fiddler's bloodcurdling melodies, and Severus held a sleeping Fiddler tight against his chest when he heard a particular paragraph that crept up his spine.

Forgive me, for I don't know what I gain  
Alone in this garden of pain  
Enchantment has but one truth:  
I weep to have what I fear to lose.

True enough, he feared he'd lose her, sooner or later, and he almost laughed at this new sense of foreboding. No one in the Snape Family had been a Seer. He sighed and kissed Fiddler's brilliant head softly, thinking that, indeed, thanks to her and her stubbornness, it seemed like a tangible, effective weapon against Voldemort was finally drawing nearer.

And it hadn't come out of the Department of Mysteries.


	25. For this Gift of Dream I must Pay the Pr...

Chapter 25 

**For this gift of dream I must pay the price**

Fiddler was in the Medical Lounge, sitting cross-legged on a rather shabby loveseat, holding a tea mug in one hand and a yellow paper in the other one, staring at nothingness, not even blinking.

  She remained that way until the door screeched open and a young female doctor wearing a pink maternity scrub walked in. Fiddler's eyes darted to the other woman's midriff of their own volition widened somewhat. The other doctor grinned, put a hand to her rising belly and said:

"Yes, I'm getting bigger every day".

Fiddler smiled back absently and looked back at the yellow sheet in her hand.

"Got your results?" the doctor in the pink scrub asked.

Fiddler nodded.

"I got mine as well. I have a minor urinary infection, but that's it. Free for another six months!"

The pregnant woman gave Fiddler the thumbs up, and she mimicked the gesture mechanically. She looked at the sheet yet again and sighed.

It was mandatory for all personnel to undergo a thorough medical check up every six months, this to ensure their health status and to prevent any legal complication regarding infectious diseases and such. Fiddler had asked for an additional test this time, and although she knew it was bound to turn out positive (they hadn't been exactly careful… not ever), it was not any less astounding for that reason.

"What about you, Fidd?" asked the other woman. "Everything all right?"

Fiddler sighed again and folded the sheet.

"I think I'm gonna need the address of your scrub designer, Pammy", she said.

Pammy frowned.

"What?" she looked down at her middle section and then it clicked. "Oh, Fiddler! You _are?_ That is so wonderful! Congratulations!"

Fiddler raised her eyebrow as if saying: "Yes, well", but right now, she felt nothing but sheer astonishment. Well, actually she felt faint, also, and perhaps just a little queasy. And definitely with a huge lump in her throat.

Wonderful? Yeah, maybe.

_Are you insane? What the HELL are you going to do with a CHILD?"_

_I don't know._

_Oh, such a brilliant answer! But first things first, though. How the hell are you going to tell Severus?_

That was a fair question, Fiddler had to admit. She wasn't sure how he'd react or feel about the whole situation, given his previous history, and Fiddler's queasiness had a lot more to do with the idea of breaking the news to him than with the actual fact of pregnancy.

_Oh, dear goodness, I am PREGNANT._

She felt like laughing, like crying, like climbing up the walls, like jumping out of the window, all at the same time. Apparently, Pammy sensed her distress, and walked near her to put a hand to Fiddler's shoulder.

"Fiddler, it's going to be all right, you know".

Fiddler nodded.

"How far along are you?"

"My guess would be around six or seven weeks".

"Early yet. Still trying to figure out how to tell the father?"

Another nod.

"Well, why don't you try what I did? I shagged him senseless and told him in the afterglow. Of course, he was half asleep already, and he didn't pay much attention, but then I got to look offended when he didn't remember!"

"That was low", Fiddler said. "Besides, I don't think that'll work in my case… I always fall asleep first", she added grimly.

Pammy laughed.

"Oh, try not to… Because, Fiddler, believe me… It _always_ works", she bent to grab whatever it was she'd gone there to retrieve and added: "If you're serious about the scrubs, though, the truth is my Mum makes them for me. I'll give you a call. I might even drop by someday... It would be nice to know the lucky father!"

Fiddler smiled feebly.

"You never told us anything... is he from around?"

"No… He's... British, I—", and Fiddler closed her mouth, realizing how close she'd been of saying _"I think"._

"Ooooooh...! And... His name?"

"Severus Snape".

Fiddler watched Pammy struggling not to laugh. And for the first time she realised Severus' name was  more than a little droll.

"Yes, well", she heard Pammy say. "Congratulations, Fidd. I'll call you".

And without another word, she left the lounge.

Fiddler sighed and drank from her mug. The tea was disgustingly warm and that did it for her. She had to get up hastily, nearly tripping over with her own legs, and jumped to the bathroom to be shamefully sick. She grabbed both sides of the toilet bowl and let the tears flow at last.

_This is entirely your fault, you know._

_Yeah, I do. Leave me alone._

_You've ruined everything. There's not a better way to scare a man away than getting pregnant._

She clenched her fists.

_Do show some backbone, will you? Get it over already!_

She got to her feet and washed her face, brushed her teeth and tamed her hair. She dared to look at her reflection and decided that waiting until the evidence of tears had cleared away from her face before going back to work was a good course of action.

   Fiddler got to Elvenpath at her usual time, not really expecting to find anyone up. On her way home she had decided not to say a word until the evidence could no longer be denied. She remembered her adoptive mother once telling her everytime she got pregnant she'd be so thrilled the first thing she did was to pick up the phone and let everyone know. But after more miscarriages than they could count, Fiddler's adoptive parents had let their Irish superstition get the best of them and they had decided to keep the next pregnancy secret until Mum had delivered. Of course, there was no other pregnancy, because there was something painfully wrong with Mum's womb, but then Fiddler had come along. And since they took her in when she was no more than four months old, they had been always able to pretend Mum had given birth to her.

Fiddler couldn't honestly say she was thrilled about the pregnancy, but she was an Irish lassy all right, and a very superstitious one, in fact; and she didn't want to risk losing the baby by breaking the news all too soon.

_Be honest here, will you? You don't want to risk losing _Severus_ by breaking the news at all._

_SHUT.UP._

She wasn't even sure she'd be able to carry the child to full term… given her _atypical_ nature. So what was the point of getting everybody all worked up, if she was to lose the child anyway? Fiddler looked like a human… well, sort of… Hence, it was easy to forget that she was only half one. And despite all the amount of time she and Hermione had spent in the library at Hogwarts, they couldn't find a single thing about body chemistry and physiology of Banshees. Fiddler was sure that things weren't so different between wizards and normal people, which would explain Half bloods, and Severus had already engendered a child, but she wasn't normal in the best of cases. So there was always the question…

And Fiddler really didn't want to know the answer, unless she could be sure she would like it.

_That's you at your utmost, you know._

_Who asked for your opinion?_

Her harping mind didn't seem to have a reply to that.

_Thank you._

She blinked, and realised she'd been standing at the door for almost fifteen minutes. Shaking her head, she produced the house key from one of her white coat's pockets, and spent the next minutes struggling as usual with the damn lock, the blasted wards and the stupid password.

She walked into unsettling darkness, and she felt her hair trying to stand upright. Instinctively, she flexed her knees and splayed her toes on her trainers, for support, and her left hand went inside her backpack, looking for something she could use as weapon. Of course, she could find nothing more murderous than a heavy Obstetrics book, and she thought that if things came to worst, she could always knock someone out with it. _Knocked up indeed,_ her cynical mind chided.

She gave two stealthy steps forward, not really knowing what to expect, but what did happen nearly scared her off her trainers.

"SURPRISE!!!!!"

_Surprise?_ She thought as the lights went on. _It's not my birthday… Unless— God damn you, Pammy. I am going to _kill _you._

Apparently her _also_ pregnant friend had done a little more than just giving her a call.

Fiddler stared at the festive balloons and the CONGRATULATIONS' signs hanging from the walls, and to all the baby's motifs displayed around the lounge. She looked at Molly's gleeful expression, at Arthur's wide smile, at Lupin, with his arm around Tonks, both looking as if they were planning to get pregnant at that very same minute, at the Kids, who seemed more shocked than happy, at Moody who was staring intently at her, as if he could see the baby right through (And Fiddler suspected he actually could), and at Fred and George who where hanging from the wall bright signs that said things like: _The Slytherin slithered all right, A bundle of sarcasm is on the way, _and _Let's hope he won't have his father's nose._

Fiddler laughed despite herself and looked around for the father in question, but Severus was nowhere to be seen.

Fiddler walked to the nearest chair and slumped into it, receiving their congratulations and good wishes a little numbly. She really didn't want to hurt Molly's feelings so she unwrapped some of the presents reveling cute baby outfits, rattles, pacifiers, diapers, toy wands and many suspicious-looking items that bore George and Fred's signature indeed. She ate a piece of cake and drank a cup of very strong tea, trying not to look too blatant in her search for Severus.

 But Tonks noticed it and asked out loud:

"Where is Severus?"

They turned around, looking everywhere, and, apparently, noticed for the first time he wasn't there.

"Well, wouldn't you know. The Greasy-Father-To-Be and he's not even here to begin with", George said.

Fiddler tried to laugh with the others, but for the life of her couldn't find enough wind to do it.

Molly sat next to her and drew out of her all the information she could, regarding the upcoming bundle of sarcasm. It was then when Fiddler learned that Pammy had called indeed, told Molly both the "good" news and the fact that Fiddler didn't seem to know how to make them public, so they had spent the rest of the afternoon shopping and decorating the house for the surprise party.

Fiddler was beginning to relax and to decide that maybe she could enjoy the rather premature baby shower when she heard all too familiar steps coming down the stairs, and her whole body tensed.

Severus froze in shock when he reached the lounge, and his ferocious gaze fixed on the decoration, then on Fiddler, half-buried in baby garments, and at last, on Fred and George's ingenious signs.

"Wotcher, stud!" exclaimed Tonks mischievously. "Congratulations!"

Severus' jaw dropped. He looked again at Fiddler, who was tense to the point of breaking, and then at the sign with the nose remark.

"Witty", he sneered. Then he addressed Fiddler: "Care to explain?"

It came out far more aggressive than he had intended, but saying he was shocked to his very core was not saying enough.

"Well, I think the answer is pretty obvious, don't you?" Fiddler replied, matching him tone for tone. "I am pregnant".

Severus' face blanched. A part of him had half hoped it was only a really bad joke.

"How—_How_— Did that came to be?"

Fiddler rolled her eyes and gifted him with the withering look she reserved for Sonia.

"I would have thought by now you'd know how".

Severus watched the rest of them roar with laughter, and that was the straw that broke the camel's back for him. He turned on his heels and left the room, slamming the terrace door behind him.

It was then when they realized that maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to throw a surprise baby shower after all.

"You weren't planning on telling him just yet, were you?" Hermione said.

Fiddler shook her head. Her eyes were glued to the door.

"Fiddler, dear", said Molly, putting her hand on her shoulder. "I am so sorry… I didn't think… We imagined… Well— I wanted…"

"That's all right, Molly", Fiddler said softly. "Don't worry about it. It's my mess to work out".

"Oh, but dear, it is _not _a mess! A baby is always a blessing!"

"Oh, is it? Did it look like a blessing to you?" she replied, pointing at the terrace door.

"He'll come around, Fiddler, he's just surprised…"

"Yes, imagine that, the git's gonna be a _dad!_ That'll shock everyone all right…" Ron said.

Fiddler smiled feebly. She felt seconds away from bursting into tears.

"Well… I am going to bed now", she said. "I must get up early… Thanks… for everything…" she made a vague gesture around the lounge and sighed.

She didn't take a single present with her.

 Nor did she go to bed.

She went straight to the music room, which also led to the terrace, and went in search of Severus.

She found him near the archways, walking restlessly, as the sweet smelling wind blew and the crickets sang. The stars shone above and the Full Moon was looking down on them.

It was a beautiful night.

_The days were brighter,  
Gardens more blooming,  
The nights had more hope,  
In their silence._

_The wild was calling,  
Wishes were whispering,  
The time was there,  
But without a meaning.  
_ 

The echoes of the song reverberated in Fiddler's mind. She closed her eyes and reveled in the soft music she could conjure in her head, forgetting about Severus if even for a little while.

_Away, away in time,  
every dream's a journey away.  
Away to a home away from care,  
Everywhere's just a journey away.  
  
The days departed,  
Gardens deserted,  
This frail world  
My only rest?  
The wild calls no more,  
Wishes so hollow,  
The Barefoot Boy  
weeping in an empty night._

But of course, her mind had wicked ways to remind her of him.

_  
Cherish the moment,  
Tower the skies,  
Don't let the dreamer,  
fade to grey like grass.  
No falling for life,  
A gain for every loss,  
Time gathered me,  
But kept me flying.  
  
For this gift of dream_

_I must pay the price,  
with the loss of life's pleasures…  
  
_

Her blood curdled.

Damned be her mind.

Fiddler had wanted to talk to Severus, but faced with his brooding pace, she didn't dare to. She shook her head and retreated, back into the house and towards her room.

 She cried for a long time before she fell asleep.

  Severus walked inside the room he'd shared with Fiddler for over two months and leaned on the threshold to watch her sleep. He looked at her clock alarm and realised she was bound to get up soon. He sighed.

        She was _pregnant._

His heart still skipped a beat everytime he formed the word in his head. He hadn't been able to sleep just thinking of it.

        A child.

_        His _child.

Again.

After… twenty years?

Yes, Lucas would have been twenty years old in January… Had he lived.

Lucas Ludlow Snape, two years older than Potter and his cronies.

Severus shook his head. He was too old for this.

He was not the fatherly type of man. Not even with Lucas, although that hadn't been entirely his fault. Wynn had hardly allowed him to become involved. He had felt like a stallion, whose seed had been extricated from him for the sake of others… But that had been Lucas' destiny all along.

He realised that it was exactly how he was feeling now.

_Used._

And _betrayed._

As if Fiddler had gotten herself pregnant just to annoy him.

_Snape, that is unfair and you know it._

 He did all right, but it did not make any difference.

He liked his life the way it was, he liked being with Fiddler, loving her, sharing her thoughts, his mind, her soul, their bed.

Just the two of them.

Not third parties involved.

He'd never thought she'd sink as low as to betray him like that. All the more since she knew how he felt about that particular subject.

Severus sighed again and smoothed away a lank tendril of his hair, thinking about what would come next.  He did not wish to lose Fiddler, but the newly included "bundle", he was not so willing to embrace.

  He was saved from further thought by the loud clock alarm, and he watched Fiddler rolling over sleepily, probably trying to reach for him, and then moving her head as if tutting herself for her own stupidity.

She left the bed and Severus felt a pang of lust as she stretched with her catlike style, lust that was quickly replaced by surprising concern when she brought a hand to her belly and her mouth opened in a soundless "ow".

"OK, don't do that again", she told herself. She looked at the bed, at the spot Severus usually occupied, and, as she walked slowly towards the bathroom, Severus watched her wipe from her eye a single tear.

**A/N.**

TBC, please R & R!!!!!

Thanx a lot to my kind beta Ian for his BRILLIANT thoughts!!!

Disclaimer: All characters and HP universe belong to J.K. Rowling, except for the ones you don't recognize. The plot as well is mine and solely mine!! No profit is being made!!!!


	26. Post Nubila, Phoebus

Chapter 26 

**Post Nubila, phoebus**

Fiddler did everything in her hands to avoid being at home.

She doubled shifts, she stayed to help at the DR, and she even assisted on emergency surgeries, out of schedule cabinet tests, and autopsies, she lurked around Mulligan and tested cyanide in everything she could lay hands on, taking frantic notes that usually went to the bin.

All of it for the sake of mental peace.

She also stayed at the hospital at nights, sleeping in a very uncomfortable _chaise longue _in the Medical Lounge, wondering idly if Severus still slept in her bedroom, and trying to convince herself she didn't care.

 And although she barely felt morning-sick, she hadn't threw up more than twice, and she didn't have weird cravings at all, she was managing to lose all the weight she had wanted to get rid of her entire life, just due to her frantic work schedule.

Molly was worried to death about her, and she tried by all means to get her to eat and rest, but Fiddler wouldn't listen. Molly was about to tell her that, if she kept that up, she'd lose the child, and she'd snapped her mouth shut as the horrified thought occurred to her that Fiddler might just be aiming that goal.

The final breakdown came at last, as it was bound to, and one afternoon, as Fiddler was walking downstairs to go back to the hospital after a short nap, a quick shower and a perfunctory meal, she felt everything start dancing around her, and with a soft moan she rolled all the way downstairs, after blacking out completely.

She came about a few minutes later, surrounded by the concerned faces of everybody (except for Severus, she noted), and the twins, Harry and Ron, carried her back to bed despite her feeble protests.

It was there where Severus found her, after learning what had happened from a really outraged Molly, who urged him to stop acting like an arse and go to her. He walked silently towards the bed, and he had to swallow the horrified grunt that came to his throat at the sight of her sleeping face, with horrible dark smudges under her eyes, paler than the white sheets in which she lay, lips dry and grayish, her hands curled into fists under her jaw. He definitely hadn't seen much of her in the past weeks, but this was outrageous. She didn't look just worn out; she looked terminally ill.

"Fiddler…" he murmured.

She did not stir. Not that he'd expected her to. He sat on the bed next to her, just to watch her sleep, but the springs creaked and she woke.

"Hello", she said with no inflection.

"Hello. How do you feel?"

"Fine".

"You look everything but fine".

"Thank you", she mocked.

"You know what I mean. Are you… going to see someone? As in a doctor?"

Fiddler shrugged.

"I will have my first OB check up when I reach eight weeks… Two months, that is. If that's what you're asking."

"I see. And, in the mean time? Will you work yourself to exhaustion?", his tone was reproachful.

She didn't answer.

"Molly informed me you fainted".

"So I did".

"And?"

"And— What?"

"Fiddler! What are you trying to do?"

"Do you want the truth?" he steeled himself, because she was as mercilessly honest as he was. "Stay away from you".

"Is that so?"  Severus' tone was dangerous now. "And why would that be?"

"You forget I can get inside your mind, don't you? So I betrayed you, is it? You poor victim, everyone keeps stabbing you in the back. You break my heart. Write me a novel or something, will you, but just for the record, allow me to enlighten you about a little fact: I didn't get pregnant by myself", she hissed, her eyes burning with anger. "Like it or not, _you had something to do with it_, and, like it or not, I am _not_ going to get rid of it. So if you want to end this, _now_ would be the right time to say it".

A faint blush had spread on her face, and her eyes were shining with unshed tears. Severus took hold of her hand, refusing to react to her outburst. A part of him believed she was entitled. She was right, he'd acted like the victim… And he was too old to keep wallowing the past like that. He was risking his present by doing so.

"Fiddler, I— do not wish to 'end this', I do not want to lose you and what we— What we have. But—"

"But you don't want the baby. Well, then I guess you'll just stick around until he's born and then banish?" she said with her trademark irony.

"Do not be stupid", he replied sternly. "I will… accept it. Eventually".

Fiddler's almost transparent lips curled up in a disdainful smile.

"I'll keep my hopes up, then", she said. "On the other hand, _you _can keep your hopes up as well… There's a good chance I might not be able to carry to full term".

Severus looked at her bewildered.

"What?"

"Well, you know… I don't know how my… internal organs work, given that I am not a regular human at all. Maybe my chromosomes are different and the baby will be so abnormal I will miscarry by mere natural selection. Or my uterus might not be designed, so to speak, to bear a child, neither human nor wizard. My body may reject it or something… I just— Don't know. So maybe you'll get yours after all".

"Stop it, Fiddler", he said, hoarsely. "That is not what I want either. I never asked you to get rid of it. I am merely—"

"Betrayed. Hurt. Confused. I know. I am just stating a fact here. There's a good chance that this baby will die".

Severus finished the sentence in his head: _as well._

And he felt outraged, as if she'd said it herself. So he hit back.

"You are so damned _cruel,_ Fiddler… You remind me so much of—"

But he didn't get to finish the sentence. A small, pale hand shot forward and slapped him right in the face. Fiddler sat up abruptly and pinned him to the spot with only the murderous light in her eyes.

"Don't you _ever_ compare me to that bitch again, do you _hear me? NEVER!_" her voice was trembling, and tears were gliding down her cheeks. "Oh, I might not be as gorgeous as your beautiful Swan but believe me when I tell you I'd rather slash my own neck before doing what she did… So I don't want to hear _her_name ever again… It's bad enough that I get to see her still haunting your mind…"

She threw away the sheets away violently and got off the bed without looking at him. Severus held out a hand to stop her, and noticed she was still shaking with rage.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Back to work", she spat.

"Like Hell you are", he said with his best professorial tone. "You shall stay here and rest. You're pregnant".

Fiddler turned to look at him and he shrunk at the weight of her gaze. She had got upset, but she did resemble Wynn a lot in her own wicked way.

"I thought we had agreed that only _eventually_ would you care about my… _betrayal"._

And without another word, she walked out on him.

A truce.

That's how it felt like between them, especially at nights, when Fiddler lay tensely next to Severus, feeling his gaze on her as if she was a Trojan Horse with a deadly army within her.

They hadn't made love since that fateful baby shower, and Fiddler had to admit she missed the feel of him terribly. But she didn't even dare to lean her head on his shoulder to sleep. It felt almost like he was still sharing her bed out of duty, and Fiddler had come to the conclusion that he didn't even want her anymore, for he had made no move to touch her at all sincetheir last argument.

She sighed.

"Severus?" she said, half expecting him to be asleep already.

"Yes".

"Um— My… OB appointment is tomorrow at four o'clock… if… If you want to come".

She'd thought he would refuse, either politely or curtly, but her surprised her when he answered silkily:

"I will be there".

Fiddler smiled slightly and turned to her side to sleep. Then he startled her again by shifting her to face him, and pulled her close.

The intruding embryo was quickly forgotten among the waves of passion and immense pleasure they both shared, and Fiddler allowed herself to cry at last as she climaxed, because she loved him, and because she knew he loved her as well, she could feel it, she could see it in his mind, as well as the confused emotions the baby in her womb stirred in him.

She clung to him as he soothed her, and mumbled her love for him against his chest until she fell asleep in his arms.

Severus accompanied Fiddler to the hospital he'd already visited in his dreams. He waited along with her until a nurse led them into a room that smelled funny, with a chestnut desk, a wall loaded with certificates, a small exploratory bed and a huge machine with a screen attached to it.

 Severus had to answer an annoyingly high amount of questions he found rather insulting and had to endure the sight of another man splaying his hands on Fiddler's belly, as she struggled not to giggle and he bit back a warning about her ticklishness.

Fiddler and Doctor Lennox Kirby were soon lost into the weird language that was common to medical fellows, and Severus only connected back when he watched Doctor Kirby put what it looked like a small, thick wand to Fiddler's belly and soon enough the room was filled with a very loud noise that strongly resembled a racing horse.

"The baby's heartbeat", the doctor clarified. "Only…" but he didn't finish the sentence, shifting the wand on Fiddler's belly. She giggled.

 Severus looked at her and he was startled to see her eyes widen suddenly and to hear her say, in a rather urgent voice:

"Lennox, turn the screen!"

Dr. Kirby obliged and moved the screen so Fiddler could look at it. Severus watched her jaw fell open.

"Oh—Oh… _God…"_

"Congratulations! Fiddler, that's—", Kirby said, but he might have read into her expression, for he added nothing else.

Fiddler remained silent during most of the ride back home. Severus wanted to know what had astonished her so, but he couldn't bring himself to ask. Instead, he perused the load of indications Dr. Kirby had given Fiddler and he was absurdly relieved when he learned having sex wasn't among the list of proscriptions. He also found out that she needed to nap at least two hours a day besides her usual eight hours at night, and that she must sleep on her left side; she had to drink a reasonable amount of fluids, keep her feet up, eat properly and four times a day, do some light exercise and be relaxed and calmed.

Despite himself, he tried to remember if Wynn had ever done any of those things and his memories only informed him he had actually known she was with child when she was about to deliver Lucas, as he didn't really see much of her in the best of cases.

He looked at Fiddler, whose eyes where fixed on the road before them, and suddenly he thought that, with her, he would actually have the chance to become involved in the development of his child, and for the first time since he had learned about Fiddler's unexpected pregnancy, he felt he could actually embrace that baby… and maybe, even love him.

Or her.

That last thought stirred a question.

"Fiddler?"

"Mmm?"

"Do you know the— Baby's sex?"

She smiled and he suddenly wanted to kiss her.

"No... It's too early yet".

"Ah".

He remained silent for a while and finally, he asked:

"Fiddler?"

"Yeah".

"What did you find so startling back in the doctor's office?"

Fiddler sighed and Severus watched her go taut, as if fearing he'd fret. She drew in a very deep breath and said:

"Please, don't freak", it was not a good start. "But... Oh, _god... _I don't know how to say it... I just... Severus, we—, I mean, _I_— I'm having twins".

 Severus was deprived of the power of speech until they got to Elvenpath.

Fiddler's belly grew incredibly fast as the time passed.

She was almost twenty weeks along with the pregnancy and everybody in Elvenpath, Moody included, were all of a dither. Molly fussed around her as a Mother Hen, and she had busied herself on knitting enough baby jumpers to dress a dozen babies for a year. Ginny, Tonks and Hermione were Fiddler's permanent companions and Severus had spent more than one afternoon drinking tea mug after mug, trying to pick baby names, browsing through maternity magazines to decide which color would suit the nursery and hearing Fred and George's silly jokes to his unborn children. Harry and Ron had offered Fiddler to teach the babies how to ride brooms and play Quidditch and Severus had nearly died at the perspective of having his children trained by two Gryffindors. Fiddler had laughed heartily, and just to annoy him, Severus was sure, had graciously accepted their offer.

To Severus, she looked radiant. She had started to waddle, to grunt everytime she sat down, to hold her aching back and to spend half the day in the bathroom, but the smudges under her eyes had faded, she smiled rather oftenly, both to herself and to him, and she hummed happily all day long. She slept quite a bit as well, and as Severus seldom had anything better to do, he usually joined her in bed, with a good book to read while she napped, and he had reluctantly admitted to himself he actually enjoyed the feel of her rounded tummy pressed against him.

He looked down at her, snuggled to him and sleeping peacefully, and he sighed.

The CD player on her nightstand was playing a song as usual, and for once Severus' skin didn't curl as he heard the words in Latin echo in their room.

_Cursum perficio.  
Verbum sapienti:  
quo plus habent,  
eo plus cupiunt.  
Post nubila, Phoebus  
Iternum_

In fact, he found them utterly fitting.

They had resolved their issues in the past few weeks without really discussing them, as Severus grew used to the idea of the two babies steadily growing inside of her. And that slow acceptance had determinedly turned into cautious enthrallment, and, quite recently, into a hesitant thought, nagging in the back of his mind.

He had weighed all possible words and scenarios, but he still hadn't found neither the nerve nor the time to say it. Not because he doubted it in the least, after all, she was carrying his blood...

With another sigh, he shifted to his side to cradle her to him with legs and arms, pressing purposely his own stomach against her bulging belly. He was starting to doze off when something that felt like a small but unwavering nudge on his midriff startled him.

Out of instinct, he drew back and put a hand to Fiddler's stomach. Yes, there it was again, a soft movement that caused his hand to rise and tingle. He removed it, astounded, and shook Fiddler awake.

"Fiddler! Fiddler, wake up!"

She stirred and opened her eyes, but just barely.

"Mmm...?"

"Fiddler... Something— The— It is moving!"

She frowned, and when it clicked, she burst into soft chuckles.

"Oh, Severus, it's the babies!"

"What? They _move?"_ he sounded as if he couldn't believe it.

"Well, _of course_ they do! They're alive! They sleep and wake, they kick around all day, they even suck their thumbs..."

"Ah", Severus said quietly.

He held her to him and buried his crooked nose in her hair.

"I— did not know", he whispered, and before he could think better of it, he had added: "Wynn never allowed me to be a part of it".

Surprisingly, Fiddler didn't fret at the mention of Wynn. She merely shifted to lay on her back, and taking hold of his hands, she put them to her belly and instructed him on the various "clinical maneuvers" doctors used to assess the child's position in the womb, and she let him feel the movement of _his_ children inside her, pointing out when a head or a foot poked into her skin.

Saying Severus Snape was astounded was not saying enough. He was at a loss of words.

But his Slytherin mind recovered soon enough, and told him to seize his chance. It was a golden opportunity and he didn't miss it.

With a hand on her belly and the other one cupping her chin, he bore into her eyes and said softly, using for the first time her real father's last name:

"Fiddler McGonagall... Would you be my wife?"


	27. Beauty of the Beast

Chapter 27 Beauty of the Beast 

Fiddler still smiled widely everytime she thought about it. She was pregnant and getting _married._ Something she'd always thought was far beyond her reach.

She had been speechless for quite a while after Severus proposed, and for a second there, she'd seen fear on those dark eyes, fear that she'd say no, so she had kissed him gently trying to reassure him, but before they knew it they were making love almost frantically, Severus trying his best not to crush her belly as he suckled at her neck hungrily, flicking out his tongue every now and then, and soothing the marks with his lips, deep groans issuing from his throat as he felt Fiddler pressed up against him, hugging him desperately, tears gliding freely down her cheeks whilst she kissed him thoroughly, moaning very softly, matching the rhythm he'd set as he moved inside her, slowly, intensely, as if he wanted to imprint each thrust into his memory, his hands in her hair, and his lips on her breasts, suckling, nibbling, licking…

"Oh_— _Oh…_ Fiddler…"_

She couldn't reply, she was crying, she was arching back her head; she was clinging onto him, she was murmuring into his neck as she felt him shuddering and spill himself into her.

"Well", he panted when they'd finished, wrapping arms and legs around her as he always did, "I believe I shall take that as a yes".

She laughed.

"Yes, Severus Snape", she cupped his face with her hands and kissed him. "I will marry you".

He closed his eyes as if he was immensely relieved, and kissed her neck all the way up to her jawline and her mouth, as she draped an arm around his waist to draw him closer. Their bellies touched and Severus raised an eyebrow as he felt a determined kick.

"I believe we are going to have to think of alternative positions soon enough", he said, blushing slightly, "that is, if you are up to it".

He relished in the twinkle of her eyes.

"Oh, I am, Mr. Snape, I am".

They simply lay in bed, entangled with one another, kissing tenderly, until Fiddler sighed and drew back, settling her head on Severus' chest to sleep. Severus buried his hands in her hair and told her:

"I am aware I should have gotten you a ring, _álainn",_ she smiled at the endearment, which he hadn't used since the baby shower. "But I thought you might want to join me in the purchase of it."

"So thoughtful…" she murmured.

"I wanted to get you a magical ring, but a trip to Diagon Alley would be far too risky for you as it is".

"Don't worry…" she kissed his chest very softly, making him shiver. "We can always… charm it later…"

"That we could", he agreed, thinking about it for the first time.

He heard her yawn and loosened his arms just a bit to cradle her better in them.

"Sleep, _álainn"._

"Good night…" she mumbled, barely awake. "I love you…"

Severus blinked, still not fully used to hear it, and he dropped a kiss to her head.

"I— love— I love you, too, Fiddler", he said, his voice thick.

He shifted a little to a more comfortable position, without relinquishing his possessive embrace, and smiled as he felt his children moving about inside his future wife's womb.

He dreamt of Lucas, but for the first time in twenty years, it was a pleasant dream.

They went to a Celtic Jewelry Store near the Hospital, where Severus browsed through each and every ring in there without finding a suitable one. Fiddler was beginning to feel dizzy from standing up, and she had to sit down before she'd black out in front of everybody, but at last she heard Severus grunt approvingly, and raised her gaze to look at the ring.

"Oh, wow…" she murmured. "It's… it's gorgeous".

"A man of taste", said the salesman and gave Fiddler a gallant bow.

She smiled absently as she examined the ring, a slim band of gold engraved with Celtic knots and a small diamond of mysterious dark color carved to resemble a rose, and enclosed by even smaller agates of various hues of gray. Fiddler had never seen a ring like that and she stared at it, enthralled.

"It is called the Black Rose Diamond", the salesman said. "Black Diamonds are rare indeed… A very valuable jewel you have chosen, sir".

"Valuable indeed", Severus agreed, but he wasn't looking at the ring. He was looking at Fiddler.

She pressed her lips together, determined not to cry in the middle of the Jewelry shop, and she almost succeeded. A single tear slid down, but she quickly wiped it away, hoping no one had noticed, and pretended she was incredibly interested on a flowering orchid behind her. She watched Severus pay for the ring out of the corner of her eye, nothing in his demeanor betraying he had never handled Muggle money before. For the first time, Fiddler wondered if he could afford it and she opened her mouth to ask him, but he shushed her with a gentle gesture as if he'd read her mind, and slid the ring on her finger. It fitted perfectly, and Fiddler always had a hard time finding a ring that would suit her rather slim fingers. She decided to take it as a good omen.

Severus helped her to her feet, and they left the jewelry shop walking side by side. Severus surprised her by sliding an arm around her shoulders and drawing her to him. She turned to meet his eyes, as she was aware of his discomfiture towards public displays of affection, and that discreet gesture had astonished her even more than if he had kissed her right in the middle of the street. Apparently he picked up some of her thoughts.

"Normally, I would have felt terribly awkward by doing this", he agreed. "But somehow I highly doubt that people will notice if I _pretend_ I am offering my support to a pregnant woman…"

She laughed heartily, and leaned her head on his shoulder.

"You're very much mistaken, my dear. On the contrary, everyone will look at you and marvel at you being such a gentleman".

Severus stiffened and gave her a very self-conscious look. Fiddler thought he'd let go of her, but apparently he decided against it and they continued their slow stroll around the stores, browsing through baby outfits, toys, bassinettes, cradles and maternity clothes. Fiddler still marveled at how that prosaic activity could make her feel in Heaven. She looked at Severus, who looked so out of place among the flashy maternity dresses as a bull in a porcelain store, and wanted to laugh.

"Nah", she said, eyeing the millionth dress. "I'll just get bigger scrubs".

Severus chuckled appreciatively, inwardly thinking that those sweetened garments wouldn't go with his scathing, brisk doctor, no matter how pregnant, and a little while later they were driving back to Elvenpath.

"You know", Fiddler said thoughtfully. "I don't reckon I will fit in here much longer… Sure you don't want to learn how to drive?"

Severus refused as politely as he could whilst helping her out of the van. He held her by her elbow and walked her to the door, where he leaned her back against it and, cupping her face with his hands, he kissed her mouth thoroughly, breathing a little heavily.

"What is the matter with you?" she murmured against his lips.

He drew back.

"Nothing… I just feel like kissing you".

"Aaaah! Any particular reason?", she asked mischievously.

Severus frowned as if he was giving it a deep thought.

"Well. I find you rather desirable with your round belly and your psychodelic purple scrub; I lo—love you so, and we just got engaged… In fact, I want you now. Will those reasons suffice?

She smiled and kissed him back, closing her eyes to dwell in sensation, and she nearly fell over when the door opened behind her, and they both heard a surprised gasp.

"You know, Fred, I don't reckon my eyes will stand the sight of this _another _time", George said, grinning widely. "Just the second time I've seen it and my eyes feel like popping out".

"Definitely", Fred agreed. "Enjoying yourselves?"

"Very much, thanks the same", Fiddler said smugly, and taking hold of Severus' hand she dragged him inside the house.

Fred and George looked at each other and followed them.

"Where did you go?" George asked.

"I thought you were going somewhere?" Severus said repressively.

"Oh, that can wait", Fred said.

"We have no need to inform you of our movements", said Fiddler, and not even Severus could have accomplished her tone.

"Oh, yes, you do", George said, serious now. "Dumbledore's dropped a letter. Lucius Malfoy's believed to be somewhere around here and we all know he's aiming for the two of you. We definitely don't want him to learn Fiddler's pregnant, the consequences would be disastrous".

Severus regarded the twins with reluctant respect.

He didn't say a word but he squeezed Fiddler's hand and walked towards the terrace where the kids were playing water polo and Molly knitted one of her endless jumpers and drank iced lemonade.

Fiddler walked towards a tanning bench and sat down with a relieved groan. Severus occupied the bench next to hers, rather incongruous with his ever-present dark garments, being near to a pool and in the middle of a luminous day.

   Fiddler looked at the ring on her finger and smiled helplessly. No one seemed to have noticed, and she was weighing if she should just announce it, or if she should consult it with Severus first, or if it maybe was better for them not to say anything just yet. She leaned her back on the bench as to ease the pressure on her belly. The twins inside it were blatant in their displeasure at being crushed. She ran a hand over her bulge and grinned as she felt them kick. She was getting huge and her skin itched and burned with unavoidable stretch marks, her back was a real and constant pain, and she didn't seem able to leave the bathroom; she walked like a goose, and she had a hard time finding her posture to sleep, but she couldn't remember being happier in her entire life. Feeling her children inside her womb, nearly kicking their way out, or browsing through embryology books with Severus and showing him pictures of what their babies surely looked by then and marveling at their steady development, as he put his arms around her and cradled her to him, splaying his hands on her midriff…

It was bliss, pure bliss.

 Sometimes she'd still wake up at nights just to _look_ at the man beside her, unable to believe he was actually there.

  Fiddler examined the diamond on her ring carefully, watching it shimmer enigmatically in the bright sunlight.

Black Rose Diamond.

She closed her eyes, and as usual, her musical mind provided her with the fragment of an oddly fitting song.__

_  
My home is far but the rest it lies so close,  
With my long lost love under the Black Rose.  
You told I had the eyes of a wolf,  
Search them and find the Beauty of the Beast._

That was just it, she thought, feeling tears burn under her closed eyelids. Severus had been the only man brave enough to look into her wolf-like eyes and find some beauty in her, and that fact moved her, astonished her, and made her love him beyond belief.

She wiped a tear absent-mindedly, and felt more than saw Severus raising from his bench and approach her. He twisted his lean form to rest beside her an asked in a very low voice:

"Are you all right?"

"Yes… I was just thinking how much I love you".

Severus frowned.

"And that makes you cry?"

She chuckled.

"No, of course not… You know me, I cry when I'm happy, and when I'm sad… Besides these ruddy hormones are not precisely helping…"

Severus smiled and Fiddler sensed he was dying to hold her, to kiss her, but he didn't dare to in front of everybody. She respected him and his sense of privacy enough to do anything, so she simply gifted him with a bright smile and asked him if he wanted some lemonade. He refused and he was about to say something else when Moody limped towards them, his magic eye fixed on the blue waters as if fearing a toothy monster would jump out and attack him.

He wasn't entirely mistaken, as Fred and George, always wanting to catch him off-guard, hurled in his direction from two different sides, howling like lunatics and finally succeeding on throwing him into the pool.

Severus watched Fiddler laugh heartily at the scene, delighted as a little girl, and although he hadn't found it amusing, he felt oddly kindhearted by her laughter. It reminded him of how young she really was, despite her outer certainty, her independence, her career and her pregnancy. She could still act as careless and free as a child… only she didn't show it oftenly. He looked at her left hand and he felt both thrilled and scared at the same time. He tried to convince himself this time would be different, but he could not help to feel a bit wary. He sighed really deeply and felt light-headed.

"Fiddler", he whispered, taking advantage of the fact that everyone else was watching Moody trying to climb out of the pool. "Do you want to tell them?"

"Do you?"

Severus shrugged.

"They will find out anyway". He sounded pained.

She smiled.

"Are you all right with it?"

"I do not think I will survive if _any_ of them try and _hug_ me with their best wishes", he snarled.

"I don't think they'll try and do such thing", she said.

He mirrored her grin. Just barely.

"Then, I grant you the honor", he spoke.

"Wimp".

Severus looked at her, eyes wide, and had to fight very hard not to laugh at the playful twinkle in her eyes. He followed her gaze at the kids, still playing in the water, at Moody, drying off in a bench, at Molly, still knitting. They noticed Arthur approaching with a fruit tray and Severus quickly blinked and looked away when he took in the sight of Tonks and Lupin snogging in a shadowy bench.

Then, he felt Fiddler's eyes on him, and her warm hand seeking his, and heard her clear her throat.

"Um— Severus and I have something to say", she spoke.

Everyone's eyes slowly turned to see them.

"Yes, we…" she felt her face blushing but continued all the same: "Well, we have decided… considering the circumstances it would only be appropriate if—", _Oh, for crying out loud, Fiddler, get over it already!._ She agreed with herself and breathed in deeply. "What I am trying to say is that Severus and I are getting married".


	28. Without You, the Poetry within Me is Dea...

**Chapter 28**

**Without You, The Poetry Within Me Is Dead**

Arthur nearly dropped the tray. Molly lost her knit. Ron's jaw dropped. Harry almost drowned. They heard Tonks choke and Lupin gasp. Moody's soaked eye flew down to the floor. Fred and George wailed in disbelief. Ginny giggled nervously and Hermione stepped out of the pool to offer them her polite and down-to-earth congratulations and best wishes.

Molly recovered quickly enough, and fixing the loose knit, she babbled excitedly about the upcoming Handfasting.

"The what?", Fiddler asked.

And she was enlightened about the sacred Wiccan rite, in which the Old Gods were meant to bless and hallow a Union between two people. She learned that tradition held Handfasted couples should last together for a year and one day, then deciding if they wanted to renew their vows or part ways. She felt her heart flutter in fear at that, but Severus made it plain that they would be Handfasted for life for all he cared. She felt like crying again, but she only tossed an arm around his shoulders, much to everyone else's amazement.

"So what do we _need_ for a Handfasting, anyway?", Fiddler asked once the bewildered exclamations, the cheery congratulations, and the somewhat disbelieving giggles had weakened a little.

"Oh, it is fairly simple", said Molly Weasley beaming happily at her whilst her hands were still busy knitting the tiny Weasley jumper for one of the babies. "We'll need a High Priest. But of course, Dumbledore will be wanting to Handfast you two personally, so he'll be doing that; we also need a High Priestess, which is usually someone from the Bride's family… So I was thinking, Fiddler… would you like to ask Minerva? I am sure she will be _delighted._ Let's see, so we have the Priests, the Bride, the Groom, of _course…_ Oh, and the Four Callers… And the Maiden of the Broom".

Fiddler gave Mrs. Weasley an inquiring glance, but surprisingly enough, Severus answered for her:

"The Four Callers represent the Elementals of Life, which will bear witness to the Handfasting, and they will each stand at North, South, West and East of the Bride and Groom. Usually, the Bride and Groom chose two each, thus meaning that they are usually two males and two females. But that of course can be changed…", he eyed the remaining males in the terrace, shivering at the mere thought of _any_ of them becoming a Caller. Fiddler laughed openly, and he continued: "As for the Maiden of the Broom, tradition holds that, before the Handfasting begins, the area chosen to perform it is traditionally swept free of debris and negativity by her".

"You seem very familiar with the traditions", Fiddler said, and he couldn't help but grin proudly at the marvel in her voice.

"My mother was a Wicca Priestess", he replied silkily.

She held up her index finger and nodded slightly, in a very personal gesture of hers that said: "that explains it".

"Oh, I think you should pick your Callers now", said Tonks cheerfully. "After all, they'll have a lot of words to learn and there are many preparations to be made. I can be the Broom girl if you want. After all, I don't think I will wreck anything with an innocent broom…"

"Yeah, trust Tonks to do that", said George shivering in his very own mocking way.

"Tonks, you could manage to kill someone with a butter knife", growled Moody, and the terrace roared with laughter as they remembered Tonks' last upheaval involving Moody and a certain butter knife that had suspiciously flown directly towards his magic eye, plucking it out and thus having everyone on all fours looking for the blasted thing for half an hour.

"We're not marrying tomorrow", Severus said repressively before he could think better of it. He felt Fiddler's glance surveying him with another one of her gestures, this one saying: "Oh, sooorry, _Professor", _with her best sarcastic voice, so he amended: "But then again, I guess there will be no harm in being… prepared".

"Of course not", Mrs. Weasley said. "And, Severus, if you think for one moment that Albus will let you put a delay on this, I am sorry to say you're very much mistaken. He'd be Handfasting you right know, had he been here and even if he'd had to petrify you to the spot to do it".

They all laughed at the image (except for Severus, obviously), and valiantly coping with his defeat he said:

"Well, go on then, Fiddler. You go first. Chose your Callers".

"Thank you, Severus", she said, and he was certain that he was the only one who spotted the tender irony in her voice. "Well, I don't think it is a difficult choice… Ginny, Hermione… I would be thrilled".

The younger women giggled and clapped happily and Severus closed his eyes in a long-suffering expression.

"So I believe it's your turn now, my dear", she said, and he jumped at the endearment, moreover when he felt everyone's gaze on him. He was starting to feel paranoid. Were they all conspiring to make him feel ridiculous? Surely…

_Oh, Bugger._ He surveyed the males once again. Fred and George Weasley. His insides clenched, although the part of his brain that had always listened to his mother suddenly reminded him that redhead twins were considered a good omen. But redhead _Weasley_ twins… Then, his gaze fell on Potter. His insides clenched twice. Next to him, Ron _Weasley._ Bugger. And then, Lupin and Moody; and not too far along, Arthur and Molly.

Blast, why couldn't Fiddler have a brother? Or two. That would have been easy enough, apart from the fact that it would have endeared him to her for choosing _her_ siblings, his Slytherin mind told him … But there was no use in daydreaming. She had no family but Minerva… and very soon… _himself._

_Oh, Merlin._ _I am really_ marrying _this woman. Please have mercy._

And then his very Slytherin ability to spot what was convenient provided him the answer. _A Family. Mother and Father figures… The sensation of belonging…_ He knew she craved that, because he craved it as well, so he finally drew in a deep breath and spoke:

"Arthur, Molly… It would be my honor if you'd stand by my side that day".

No one spoke for a moment, but Molly recovered quickly enough and expressed her profuse thanks to Severus. The Weasley siblings, Harry and Hermione, all seemed thunderstruck by their former teacher's choice, but delighted all the same, and Moody decided to cheer things up and uncork a bottle of his very own and surely not poisoned red wine. With that, they moved onto other topics. Severus risked a quick glance towards Fiddler and realised she had seen right through him, but she didn't seem mad in the least. She gave him the thumbs-up and mouthed "Nice move", before focusing on Hermione's enthusiastic chatter, and Severus sighed with relief.

It was good to be understood.

§§§

Molly was right.

Albus most certainly _did not_ let Severus delay things and in no time they had all set for the Handfasting. The Headmaster brought along the claddagh wedding bands and the ribbon with him, explaining rather vaguely that they were highly magic items that just happened to had come across him on his way to Elvenpath. Hermione examined them carefully and then disappeared to her bedroom, coming out later in the night telling anyone who'd listen that the bands and the ribbon had indeed belonged to an exiled Druidess named Ceo… And Severus' heart skipped a beat. He had almost forgotten about that dream.

He promised himself he'd had to tell Fiddler about that odd connection, but in the mayhem that followed, he quickly forgot.

The archways had been profusely decorated with flower crowns and aromatic vines that had the malevolent tendency to try and strangle passersby; Moody said they could be Transfigured Death Eaters and had spent a whole afternoon trying to extricate dark wizards out of the homicidal trailing plants to no results whatsoever. He finally pronounced them Voldemort-free and allowed them to stay, saying ominously he only hoped they wouldn't murder anyone at the Handfasting.

Tonks had spent two days searching for a beautiful broom, and since she couldn't find one, she had bought a plain one and decorated it with Celtic symbols and Wiccan herbs. She was sweeping along joyfully, nearly knocking Hermione out, who was kneeling on the grass giving the last touches to the petal-made pentacle with her wand.

"I thought we're not to use magic", Tonks said.

"Oh, tonight we will make an exception", Hermione replied swiftly.

"And wouldn't that be dangerous?"

"Yes, but the magical binding of Fiddler and Prof—Severus is more important to us all than a little danger. Besides", she eyed Tonks thoughtfully. "I thought you'd be used to danger by now".

"Oh, I am. I just don't think I want Voldemort to ruin everything".

"He won't", Hermione assured and kept on with her Pentacle, making the petals gleam softly in the dim light of twilight.

The Sun had set, Full Moon was up, and everyone had taken their respective places by then. Tonks put the broom away and composed her robes, then took her place alongside Lupin. She had changed her appearance especially for the Night and she looked oddly like a younger, female version of Dumbledore, without the beard. Hermione took her place to the Southern side of the pentacle and smiled when Ginny gave her the thumbs up from the East.                                                                                                    Arthur and Molly, standing each at North and West, grinned when Severus made his appearance, wearing a rather elegant deep blue robe with arcane symbols embroidered. His hair had been smoothed back from his face, and although he wasn't smiling, his usual scowl was nowhere to be seen either. He seemed peaceful. He walked slowly on bare feet towards the centre of the glimmering petal pentacle and stopped, body slightly turned waiting for Fiddler to join him.

The soft murmur in the garden lowered suddenly when she walked out of the summerhouse, flanked by Harry, Ron, Fred and George. An enchanted uillean pipe and two violins floated before them playing a traditional Celtic ballad as they advanced, but Severus only had eyes for Fiddler. She was dressed in vaporous layers of greenish blue silk with a band of Celtic knot-work along the hem and the sleeves. She had parted her hair at the middle, and then braided a thin strand in each side, twisting them to meet in the back of her head, letting the rest to cascade heavily all the way to her waist. His lips twitched up when he saw her hair arrangement: apparently Ginny and Hermione had managed to fasten practically all the shamrocks from the lawn to her dark head. The effect was not what one would call fashionable, but it gave her an air of a fair Celtic damsel. The soft fabric of her robes outlined her pregnant belly all too well and enhanced her Earth-Fairy appearance. It was breathtaking.

The four boys escorted her as she walked towards the Pentacle with a furious blush but a wide smile, and stopped next to Severus. He just couldn't meet her gaze right now, so he focused his attention on the pale toes wiggling on the grass.

"You had your way, didn't you?" he whispered to her.

"I couldn't let them out", was her reply.

And then Minerva, imposing with her tartan robes, took hold of the sword and, starting at North, circled the parameter of the circle three times, chanting the traditional words:

_"__Three times round, once for the Daughter, twice for the Crone, Thrice for the Mother, who sits on the throne."_

"_I humbly ask the attendance of the Elementals of life!", said Dumbledore in a strong voice._

Ginny cleared her throat, whilst pouring water into a bowl, and called from the East:

_"Welcome, O'powers of Water! Bless this couple with a love as deep as any ocean! May richness of body, of soul and of spirit be theirs ever more!" _

She placed the bowl at eastern point of the star, and bowed, walking back to her spot. Then Hermione took a step forward, holding a red candle in her right hand:

_"Welcome, O'powers of Fire! Ignite the Passion and the Love for this blessed pair. Ever burning, yet never consuming one or the other!" _

She placed the lit candle at southern point of the Pentacle, and bowed as well.

Molly scrubbed frantically at her tearful eyes and ignited the incense from the West:

_"Welcome, O'powers of Air!" she said with trembling voice. "With clever fingers weave tightly the bonds of Heart, Spirit and Love between these two! Let none undo the fabric of their love!"_

She walked to place the censer at western point of circle, bowed and gave the couple in the middle a bright smile. She walked back to her own place and gave Arthur a signal.

_"Welcome, O'powers of Earth!", he spoke with a thunderous voice that startled everyone. He kneeled rather graciously to fill his bowl with soil, and finished: "Bless this man, this woman with thy strength and wisdom. To be theirs as long as love lasts!" _

Fiddler felt her skin curl as she watched Arthur place the bowl in the northern point of the Pentacle. With a courteous bow, he retreated and became good old Arthur again.

And then, in unison, the Four callers spoke firmly and strongly:

_"Gracious Goddess, Gentle God, Grant this blessed pair thy love and protection." _  
_"Blessed Be!" _

Dumbledore asked then:

_"Who comes forth at this time to petition the Lord and Lady's Attention?" _

Ginny stepped forward, drawing Fiddler into the Circle:

_"This Lady," she said. _

_"And this Man", said Arthur, doing the same with Severus._

_"And their reason?" asked Minerva. _

For a moment, all that could be heard was silence. Fiddler and Severus stared at each other, both incredibly red in the face, and then he heard her in his head: _you know we have to say it, don't you, _so he nodded imperceptibly and they both spoke in unison:

_"For the beauty of love!" _

Severus tensed unwillingly after that. He could _feel _the smiles of the others pricking in the back of his head. But his attention was drawn from those feelings, as Dumbledore clasped his right hand and Fiddler's left.

_"We gather here this Night in a ritual of love. You, Fiddler McGonagall and Thee, Severus Snape, stand here before your friends, the Elements, the Lord and Lady to join together as the beginning of a family. For before there can be three, there must be two." _

_Severus had to fought very hard not to laugh when he heard Fiddler mutter:_

_"Oops". _

Apparently, Minerva had heard her too, for she was smiling when she reached for their hands to join them together, making Severus and Fiddler to face each other.

_"Severus", she said, "what do you have to offer this woman for her love?" _

_What, indeed, _Severus thought suddenly, but he got down on one knee as tradition commanded and said the time-honored words:

_"I present to her my love and my pledge. May I never knowingly or willingly do such a thing to harm, nor grieve, her in any form or fashion. Accept this, my athame, as a token of my trust. Like its blade, may my love be as strong. Like its metal may our love be enduring. Accept it my love, for that which is mine is yours." _

_"My Love, I accept your pledge", Fiddler said, and he was startled to hear her voice tremble. "And your love, as I accept thy blade. Know what is in my heart, as I know what is in thine. The magic of my will, of my love, shall ever be thine"._

_She blinked away what unmistakably were tears and smiled at him._

_Please, let her not cry,__ Severus thought somewhat desperately.__ Because if she cries, I will cry, and __I cannot__ cry in front of POTTER!_

_"Fiddler, and what do offer in return for the love of this man?" asked Dumbledore then._

_And then she broke the protocol by kneeling next to him, crying rather openly now._

_"I present to him my love and this pledge. May I never…" she breathed deeply as if trying to get a grip, but failing. "Oh, __God__, I am sorry… I'm just…" she waved her hand helplessly and inhaled yet again. "All right, here it goes… May I never knowingly or willingly do such a thing to harm, nor grieve, him in any form or fashion. Accept this, my jewel, my treasure—" her voice failed her yet again. "… as a token of my trust. Just as its bright gleam, may our love glow. Like the stone that it is its essence, may our love be as enduring. Accept it my love, for that which is mine is yours". _

"_My Love, I accept your pledge and your love, as I accept thy jewel", Severus spoke, looking into her eyes intently, watching a tear dangling from her eyelashes. "Know what is in my heart, as I know what is in thine. The magic of my will, of my love, shall ever be thine"._

He held himself rather proudly, because he had managed to say the words without stuttering _nor _crying. The corner of his lip quirked up and then he heard Fiddler's voice:

"Show off", she was smiling, and that was enough to make him ache to hold her. First the tremulously spoken vows, then that mocking phrase that showed both her sense of humor and her delightful sarcasm… He felt oddly reassured, finally giving into the knowledge that he was doing the right thing.

Dumbledore had plucked a green ribbon from his robes and he was binding both their right hands together, touching the knot with the tip of his wand.

_"With this binding I tie you, heart to heart", he touched his wand to both their chests, "together as one. With this knot you are joined in sacred union. May the Lord and Lady smile upon thee, and bless you with health and prosperity!" _

_"May neither take advantage of the other", admonished Minerva, "For remember what one may not provide, the other may!"_

Arthur came forward then holding the claddagh wedding bands. He handed them over to Dumbledore, and he indicated for the couple kneeling before him to extend their hands. He placed the rings on each other's fingers and said:

_"Your Vows have now been heard by all. These rings, like your vows, are without beginning or end. Now placed, they represent a seal of your love and respect for each other." _

He then offered them the goblet and the bread, their first meal together as Husband and Wife, and then Tonks hurried forward with the broom, nearly tripping with Fiddler's feet, and gave it to Dumbledore, who positioned it along with the sword in front of the couple. Then he extended a hand to indicate them to rise, and smiled as Severus helped Fiddler to her feet. She immediately took her hand to the small of her back and grunted. Severus wondered if she was all right.

_"This will be your first act of working together as Husband and Wife", Albus said. "May the sword cut all ties with the old and the besom sweep them away". _

Severus somehow felt that phrase was directed solely at him. He straightened his spine when Dumbledore took his hand, and watched Minerva do the same with Fiddler. The elder wizards nodded and made Fiddler and Severus step forward, releasing their hands afterwards. The Handfasted couple jumped the sword and the broom in unison, and then Dumbledore approached them to remove the bindings. He held them over their heads and spoke with undeniable pride:

_"I present to you Mrs. Fiddler McGonagall Snape, and her Husband, Mr. Severus Snape"._

_"We thank the elementals of life for their attendance this Night and ask they go forth and herald this union", said Minerva._

And then the Four Callers stepped forward to collect their offers, and said in unison:

"_Hail o'powers of water! Hail o'powers of fire! Hail o'powers of air! Hail o'powers of earth! Thank thee for thy attention! Sally forth and announce to all this union!"_

Minerva grabbed the sword once more, and then, starting at north, she circled widdershin the parameter of the circle three times:

"_Three Times Round, Once for the daughter, Twice for the crone, Thrice for the mother who sits upon the throne!" she said, beholding her just married niece with distinctive delight._

_"Oh, of course!" Dumbledore said, clapping his hands together. "Severus, you may kiss your Bride"._

_Fiddler could see him tense right away, and she felt her own blush spreading quickly on her face. None of them were comfortable with public displays of affection, and this would be indeed the first time they'd actually kiss in front of others. Well, if you didn't count the times when Fred and George had sneaked up on them… She smiled at the memory as she watched Severus take a step forward._

_"I can't do this, Fiddler", he whispered, cupping her face with both hands._

_"Yeah you can", she murmured back. "If you don't, Albus will put us under __Imperius__ to get away with it"._

_"I wouldn't doubt it", he drawled, and with a resigned sigh Severus bent his head to press his lips to her forehead, then gliding them to both her temples, her cheeks and chin, kissing the shape of a pentacle on her face. __Protection.__ He drew back, with the certainty that he'd see the star shining on her face. And for a minute there, he actually saw it._

_"__Dilecta mea__", he whispered harshly and that was enough for Fiddler to send her restraints packing because her arms came around him crushing him in a surprisingly strong embrace. He returned it, holding her head to his chest._

_"Oh, screw them", she muttered against the fabric of his robes in a very Fiddler-ish way. She straightened up to full height, drew in a deep breath and moved her left hand languidly towards the floating instruments. They started a quick, rather bloodcurdling melody and then they all heard her sing, somewhat hoarsely at first:_

_"__I knew you never before,  
I see you never more,  
But the love, the pain, the hope, O beautiful one,  
Have made you mine, 'till all my years are done"  
  
_Everything went silent for a breathtaking instant, no one daring to even breath. Fiddler held out her arms out wide, and the wind blew, making her hair fly around her. She inhaled deeply and her high-pitched Banshee voice came out, loud and clear for once, because being laughed at was the last thing on her mind:

_"Without you, the poetry within me is dead"._

_ She let her head fall, chin resting on her chest, and the music came to a halt. Severus was utterly moved for he knew how much it had cost her to do that, so damned be he if he couldn't kiss her in front of everybody.  __A natural blackmailer… Quite the Slytherin, my dear, __he thought affectionately before pulling her close to him once more, and he smiled as he watched her eyes close of their own accord as their mouths sought each other's, moving together in a sweet feather-like dance. _

_Dumbledore smiled and waved his wand, sending light green and blue sparks to the night sky, whilst the Order of the Phoenix broke in thunderous applause. _

**A/N.**

They finally got through it!!!

Please, R & R!!

Disclaimer: All characters and HP universe belong to J.K. Rowling, except for the ones you don't recognize. The plot as well is mine and solely mine!! No profit is being made!!!!


	29. Forever Yours

Chapter 29 

**Forever Yours**

The Handfasting Feast was superb, even by Dumbledore's standards. 

He had conjured the most famous wizard singing bands; a gathering of leprechauns that spelled out best wishes for the Handfasted couple with their little red and green lanterns, and even a couple of unicorns that glided free amongst the rose bushes, flashes of pure white in twilight. Molly, on her side, had done her very best with the feast, and Elvenpath shimmered with joy, music and wonderful aromas, seemingly like Fiddler's and Severus' marriage was as worthy of celebration as Voldemort's downfall.

There had been no representatives of the Snape family whatsoever, and Severus had dismissed the fact derisively, pointing out there were none all too worthy of invitation, let aside that they'd probably have collective strokes if faced with the sight of their Heir and Head actually being _Handfasted_, and to a Half-breed raised as a Muggle, no less.

The members of the Order were dancing and laughing around them, obviously enjoying the party tremendously, and Fiddler and Severus contented themselves with just watching, as neither of them were too keen on dancing. Fred and George had managed to blow up the Handfasting cake when trying to stick in some of their Wildfire Whiz-Bangs, to cheer things up a bit, as they tried to explain to their very outraged mother. Molly had howled at them for hours, righteously covered by a thick layer of white frost from head to toe.

Moody had to save Ron from one of the murderous climbing plants, and he ended up setting them all on permanent fire, adding, as he said admonishingly, a little brightness to the décor. Unfortunately, he also caught some of Hermione's long curls in the process, and she had to be charmed back to rights by a cackling Tonks, as Lupin told anybody who'd listen he still couldn't believe old Snape had managed to be married not once, but twice, _and_ before himself, and Harry wondered out loud what would have Sirius thought of it.

"Snape wouldn't hear the end of it", Lupin said, amused. "Old Padfoot would bave been on him for days with it!"

"He would have enjoyed the party, though", Harry added sadly.

The atmosphere grew a little gloomy, until Ginny, who looked like she wanted to be Handfasted to start breeding the next Weasley generation right then wondered dreamily who'd be the next one to be married.

Hastily, as if lightning-stricken, all the males in the table cleared their throats and looked away. Ron even started whistling innocently, and the three females rolled their eyes knowingly.

"Professor Lupin and Tonks, probably", said Hermione, pointing out the obvious.

Lupin's eyes widened but he dared not say a word.

"We'll see when Fiddler throws the bouquet", Tonks said, coming to his rescue.

"Oh, don't you try to catch it!", Lupin admonished, and Tonks' expression fell. "You'll knock some one over!"

Everyone laughed at that, and Tonks blushed pink. She looked away to the table of honour, in which Fiddler and Severus sat alone, lost in quiet conversation, totally oblivious to the world surrounding them.

Severus glanced at his new wife, sitting beside him, holding a glass of chilled water and sipping at it absently. He frowned as he suddenly realised she looked pale and tired, and that she was blinking repeatedly as if trying to will the drowsiness away.

"Fiddler?"

"Mmmm?"

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah", she gifted him with what was unmistakably a weary smile, and drank some more water.

"You look exhausted", he insisted.

"A bit, yes", she smiled again.

"Are the babies giving you a hard time?"

She smiled yet again, apparently amused by his concern.

"It seems that their idea of celebration is beating the Hell out of my bladder", she said, not actually meaning to be funny, but Severus chuckled helplessly.

He reached under the table to touch her belly and raised his eyebrow as she wriggled and giggled.

"You _are_ ticklish".

"Yes, Mother was miffed everytime she tried to―"

But she didn't finish the sentence. Her face frowned of its own volition and the muscles of her neck contracted as if trying to swallow back a grunt of pain.

"Fiddler?" he inquired, a little more urgently now. "Maybe you should―"

"Are you kidding me?" she replied with mock dignity. "I never thought I'd live to see this day, and by Gods I am going to enjoy every last minute of it!"

Severus chuckled again, inwardly moved by her statement.

"All right, then", he agreed.

He caught out of the corner of his eye the gleeful figure of Dumbledore, approaching them with a wide smile on his wrinkled face.

Severus groaned and Fiddler looked up at him inquiringly.

"He's coming to tell us we must perform the Ritual Dance", he sounded aggrieved.

"The Ritual Dance? With feathers in our heads and war howlings?"

Severus smiled at her.

"No. Our first Dance as Husband and Wife".

"Well, actually, our first dance ever", Fiddler pointed out.

"That would be correct. But the point is this particular dance is of great importance in the Rite of Handfasting".

"Oh… Well, it does present a problem, though", Fiddler said. "I can't dance, and, judging by the look of you, neither can you".

Severus nodded briefly.

"Insightful as usual", he said.

"My Dear Newlyweds!" Dumbledore exclaimed. "Enjoying yourselves so far?"

"Yes, Albus, thank you", Fiddler replied. "Everything's wonderful".

"It was all my pleasure", Albus said, eyes twinkling. "Are you ready for the Ceremonial Dance?"

Severus and Fiddler looked at each other with identical, almost comical pained expressions, but Dumbledore's cheerfulness broke to no argument whatsoever, so finally Severus and Fiddler gave in and walked into the circle of their guests to submerge themselves in a slow, elegant, Celtic dance in which they invoked what it seemed every god ever named in _Táin Bo Cuailgne._ It didn't require neither skill nor gracefulness, so they both managed to go through it quite smoothly, lost in each other's eyes, one of Severus' large hands tenderly cupping the curve of Fiddler's belly. The dance ended with a final twirl of violins, and Severus held his wife to him without thinking. He was able to hear one of the Weasleys' surprised gasp somewhere around his left, but oddly enough, he did not feel that self-conscious. Fiddler stood on her bare tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, and that did if for the Weasley twins. They abruptly released a huge load of Wildfire Whiz-Bangs, startling the hell out of Moody, who Stunned the redheads before he could think better of it.

Once the mayhem was sorted out, Fiddler disentangled herself from Severus' arms and, gifting him with a mischievous smile, walked away from him. Severus raised his eyebrow in mute inquiry, and Fiddler blew a kiss at him as she stopped in front of the enchanted musical instruments and whispered something to them. She then turned on her heels and spoke out loud, though her eyes were fixed on Severus.

"I seem to recall you once told me you'd like to hear me sing again", she said, and her expression added 'although I can't imagine why'; she shook her head slightly and continued: "therefore, I cannot think of another wedding gift that would mean as much as this… Severus, this song is for you".

Everyone went quiet in anticipation, as the memory of her voice still rang in their ears. The music began smoothly, merely accompanying Fiddler, who was standing amidst the green grass and the flowery archways, hair swaying softly, and hands gesturing of their own volition.

Fare thee well, little broken heart  
Downcast eyes, lifetime loneliness  
Whatever walks in my heart will walk alone.

She took a few steps, in tandem with the music, and Severus' fascinated gaze followed her every movement, holding his breath as she locked eyes with him and carried on.

Constant longing for the perfect soul  
Unwashed scenery forever gone,

_Whatever walks in my heart, will walk alone._

No love left in me  
No eyes to see the heaven beside me  
My time is yet to come  
So I'll be forever yours

Her voice raised to Banshee-ish heights and she sang the last strophe again, among bloodcurdling notes of violin. She finished with one last "whatever walks in my heart", softly sung, with her eyes downcast, as people broke in sincere applause around them. Severus walked towards her in a sort of trance and closed his arms around her, pulling her to him with the fair mix of strength and tenderness to make Fiddler feel in Heaven.

§§§§

 They walked into their bedroom arm in arm, moving slowly, Fiddler leaning her head on Severus' shoulder, eyes closed, allowing him to lead the way.

She fell onto the bed, sighing out loud, too tired to readily move. Severus settled beside her and put both hands to her belly, smiling as she giggled, and moving a little to press a kiss to the side of her neck. The babies kicked around, and Severus grinned again against her skin.

"They never give you a rest, do they?"

"They sleep for about… fourty-five minutes every… five or six hours", Fiddler mumbled drowsily. "But they must have… active dreams… as well…"

Severus kissed her neck again.

"You are tired", it was an affirmation, and she did not deny it.

"I am", she whispered. She shifted in his embrace and threw her own arms around him. "The truth is I've been having uterine activity all day long. Not… not regular, but…"

"Uterine activity?"

"Contractions, the pain of labor".

Severus looked at her, horrorstruck.

"Is it not too early?"

"Yes… They're called Braxton-Hicks contractions… They happen quite oftenly in this stage of pregnancy… Neither painful nor dangerous… But trying, all the same".

"Oh, Fiddler."

"Don't worry, it's all right". She remained silent for a while and then added. "Will you help me undress? I can't even raise my arms".

"Certainly", Severus answered, a little huskily.

His hands moved hastily over the greenish blue layers of silken clothing, leaving her in nothing more than a silken light indigo negligee that fell smoothly to her knees, stretching ever so slightly over her rounded belly. He eyed her, surprised at the garment, at odds to what she usually wore, and she blushed as she explained it was a present from Molly.

"That woman is naughty", Severus said thoughtfully, moving to kiss the tops of her breasts over the fabric of the gown.

Fiddler settled her head on the pillows and curled over herself as Severus moved to get rid of his own Handfasting robe, and when he turned his attention to Fiddler he realised she had already dozed off. But she stirred as she felt his hands caressing her shoulders when he pulled the bedclothes over her. She felt the weight of him next to her on the bed and crept into his arms, putting her head on her usual spot on his chest. Severus' hands glided through her shiny tendrils as hers caressed his chest and sides, and they remained a long time like that, until Fiddler spoke in a low voice.

"Severus? What would you like me to do… for you?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Yes, I… I am too tired for a… Um, a proper Wedding night… But… I… I want to please you".

She was delightfully blushed, and Severus kissed her mouth fully.

"Fiddler…" he murmured in between kisses. "You… do not have to do… anything of the sort".

"But I want to", she replied, looking at him. "Please?"

Severus' jaw dropped. Had he heard right? He cupped her chin in his hands and brought her face closer to his.

"Fiddler―"

He kissed her again, lips skating down her skin, and she realised what he wanted and that he couldn't bring himself to ask it of her. A blurred memory formed in the back of his mind, and Fiddler saw it, watched him lying on a four-poster bed, flat on his back, with his erection standing eagerly, waiting for his Bride to join him in bed. And, as Wynn appeared in the bathroom's threshold, breathtakingly beautiful in her black embroidered gown, his lust grew like fire despite the coldness that suddenly filled the room. Wynn walked towards the bed, and Fiddler heard the blonde woman speak out almost the same words she'd said.

Almost.

"What was it that you wanted?" but she made them sound derisive, tiresome and somewhat infuriated.

Severus mumbled his request hoarsely and Wynn's lips twitched scathingly, eyeing his erection with unmistakable scorn.

"That is asinine", she snorted. "I will not do such thing".

She made it sound as if he'd asked her to eat dung. Severus' arousal wilted in the blink of an eye and he hid his sorrow and disappointment by rolling to his side to try and sleep. He looked very young and Fiddler mused absently he certainly couldn't have been older than Fred and George. Just one year or two separated him from adolescence in that memory, and every last inch of him showed it, specially the hurt way in which he held himself on the bed where he had just been despised by his own wife, who was still ignoring him as she settled herself on the bed, as far from him as she could manage, with a thick, dusty, dark book in her hands.

"I am sorry, Severus", she said. "Well, actually, I am not. In truth, I have a headache"; she finished mockingly.

Severus pretended to be asleep.

  The image dissolved in swirls of gray and black and Fiddler raised her eyes to look up at him. He realised right away she'd witnessed his memory and shifted uncomfortably.

"I―", he began, but Fiddler put a finger to his lips to silence him.

He complied, melting helplessly into her caresses. She reassured him with lips, hands, tongue, and softly murmured words, exploring and pleasuring every inch of his skin until she had him panting and moaning incoherently, choking out her name in between ragged gasps for air. His hands tangled in her hair, pressing her head to him, wanting to feel more of her and those delicate caresses that were driving him crazy. She soon reached his erection, and Severus tensed unwillingly, a sudden flashback coming to his mind.

"F-Fiddler―"

"Shhh".

Her lips wandered over his thighs, her sleek hair brushing his skin, making him shiver, amazed at the pleasure he got from both sensations, and she moved further down, shifting her body awkwardly until she found a comfortable position.

"Oh, MERLIN!" he screamed when her lips touched ever so softly the length of him, and his hips bucked up helplessly. She smiled at that, and continued her ministrations, placing gentle, teasing kisses on his erection, flicking her tongue out every now and then to swirl it around him slowly.

"You― You are… killing… me…" he moaned.

She took the hint and stopped teasing him, although she had enjoyed the experience. She took him in her mouth, and his hips shot up as his hands grabbed the pillows around them for support. His knuckles turned white and the muscles of his neck stood up as he threw back his head, blush spreading on his body as he thrust into her mouth. She had a strong grip on him, pressing him to her palate with her tongue, and she suckled him with a steady rhythm, alternating with nibbling kisses and strokes of her tongue, that left him light-headed. Of course, it didn't take long for him, and soon enough he was releasing himself into her throat, his face transfixed with pleasure so intense it almost hurt. He cried out loud, his body convulsing as she steadied him with her hands. For half a minute he thought he would pass out, but, with a final growl of ecstasy, he collapsed back into the bed, panting.

He felt her lick him clean distantly, and it took him a while before he could find enough coherence to speak.

"Come… come to me", he rasped.

Fiddler simply nodded and settled herself back into his arms. He wrapped his arms and legs around her and sighed raggedly.

"That was… my first one ever", he confessed after a moment.

Fiddler kissed his chest.

"So was mine".

Severus' eyes widened, unable to believe it although he knew for certain she spoke the truth.

"But you― I mean― Fiddler― It was _magnificent…_ you were so… skillful", he finished, blushing slightly.

But it was nothing compared to Fiddler's own face, as crimson as the Hogwarts Express.

"I― sucked my thumb 'till early adulthood", she said, obviously embarrassed. "I believe I still do it sometimes in my sleep. Maybe that… Um― helped".

"I am sure it did", Severus chuckled as he kissed her again, getting a not-that-unpleasant shiver at the taste of him in her mouth. They pulled away slowly, reluctantly, but air was becoming a matter of life and death. Severus heard her stifle a yawn.

"I am glad… you enjoyed it", she murmured.

"Tremendously", he assured her, kissing her again.

Her lips slowly stilled under his, and she relaxed in his arms.

She was fast asleep.

Severus accommodated his body to hers, circling her belly with one arm so he could feel his children moving within his wife's womb. He still marveled at the way Fiddler's belly fluttered and undulated everytime his hands went near it. Fiddler had told him it was absolutely normal as he was stimulating the babies inside it, but it was breathtaking anyway.

It uneased him to imagine himself fathering two children, all lost amongst dirty nappies and milk bottles, because he knew he had no experience whatsoever. And he hated failing at things. He knew he could rely on Fiddler, but a deep part of him suddenly wondered if she was as novel at that as he was, given that she wasn't one to be all flashy and giggly about the babies. She hadn't filled the house with baby things or soft abhorrent colors, she didn't wear flowery maternity gowns, cried or acted like a crippled, nor had she bought a whole library of "my baby developing" or "what to expect when you're expecting". No. Embryology books and oversized scrubs was what she saw fit to use. Down to earth, she was. And he loved her for it.  He looked at her sleeping face and sighed, pondering how very different this Wedding had been from the pathetic imitation of one the first one had been.

  He smoothed a lock of hair away from her face, hoping the rest of their life together would remain as different… And he blinked, rather startled as he realised he had three long black hairs wrapped around his fingers. He felt a sudden lump constricting his throat at the magic that they seemed to irradiate, and he was scared. He remembered her saying once she'd never shed hair, not even once. Even, she'd tried to get it cut as a teenager, only to have it growing back to its original waist-length the minute she walked out of the beauty. Severus had a nagging sense that those hairs in his hands were not something to be left lying around, so, with a minimum of movement, so as not to disturb the sleeping woman beside him, he stored the long tresses away, and made a mental note to let Dumbledore know about it.


	30. Everything that my Life has Placed Betra...

Chapter 30 

Everything that my life has placed betrayed 

Shedding hair turned out to be the first of many odd things Fiddler did during the following days.

Severus and Fiddler hadn't had a proper honeymoon, as Dumbledore seemed to believe they'd endanger themselves by parting from Elvenpath. Hence, Severus had to endure the endless taunting the Weasley twins and the rest of the 'Kids' poured onto them; _and_ he'd had to share his first meals as a married man with a crowd of dunces smiling knowingly towards him and Fiddler. She didn't seem to mind, but Severus seriously thought that was because she didn't seem to be herself at all, sometimes.

"I thought we were forbidden to do magic?" said Ron uncertainly after watching the door close after Fiddler of its own volition for the third time in a row.

She did that a lot, lately, Severus mused, and she didn't even notice, she just floated around like a distracted ghost performing amazing bits of seemingly innocent wandless magic such as closing doors, boiling water, turning on the CD player without even approaching it, making the twins roll down the stairs (to Severus' admitted, infinite amusement), stopping pans and pots from falling over, predicting rain, wind and snow… And, what indeed had worried Severus the most, casting a Killing Spell (he couldn't be sure it was in fact _Avada Kedavra) —_

Just with the power of her mind.

They had all witnessed the scene, as they were gathered round having tea. Even Severus was there, and that was a first, and they had been chattering inconsequentially, mostly about the aftermaths of the Handfasting (no big deal, just a couple of scorched bushes, three broken tables, two nearly-drowned-royally-pissed Aurors… just the usual), and of course, Molly couldn't keep her attention away from Fiddler's pregnancy, nattering all over the place about the upcoming babies and the assortment of jumpers they would be needing.

"Molly", said Fiddler gleefully. "I am due August 3rd.  I don't think they'll be needing jumpers just now".

Molly's ears went as red as her hair but that didn't stop her. She then decided to comment on the best way to up bring twins and Severus cringed inwardly at the possibility that the children he'd fathered would grow up to be a living replica of Fred and George Weasley. He even considered the possibility to actually say something about it but he held back his tongue. At that very moment, Arthur Weasley appeared through the door, helped himself to a cup of tea and smiled benevolently.

"Oh, Arthur", Molly said. "Not the Laundry room again?"

Indeed.

 Arthur had spent the afternoon in the laundry room (_again;_ everybody was beginning to wonder what was so interesting about it), and soon he was boring the pants off them by telling them the wonders of the washer machine, when a rather pained growl interrupted him. Fiddler's head shot up and looked around for Triskelion; Ginny, Hermione and Harry, who were closer to the window, ran towards it, and Ginny blanched.

"Oh… Dear Merlin…" she stuttered.

"What?" Fiddler stepped forward, her eyes wide and shining.

"Fiddler—" Severus made a move to stop her, but he distinctively felt a pair of hands on his shoulders pushing him back down onto his chair. He looked around, wildly, and saw, of course, that there was nobody close to him.

It had been Fiddler, all right, but she didn't even notice. She stalked to the window and froze, but only for half a second. Next thing Severus knew, she was sprinting towards the closest door, holding her pregnant belly with one hand, her hair flying behind her. They followed her, out of sheer curiosity and stood on the threshold, looking at Triskelion engaged in ferocious battle with what it seemed a stray wolf. Severus watched her walk down the stone steps and heard his own voice saying something stupid like:

"Fiddler, come back, you're _pregnant!"_

But she didn't listen. In fact, after approaching the fighting animals, she didn't even blink; she stood there looking at the fighting animals, the wind playing with her hair and a vague aura surrounding her… And then she opened her mouth and shouted.

"Triskelion, _back!"_ with the same tone of voice that had made Sonia the Dunderhead shiver and babble in a dream not that long ago.

Triskelion backed off, barking at the wolf, and cast an inquiring glance to his owner, as Severus and the rest of them held their breath standing petrified on the threshold.

Suddenly, the wolf leapt forward, growling madly and baring its teeth as Fiddler scooped Triskelion off the ground; she turned her head quickly, just in time to catch a glimpse of the wolf floating in midair—

And they all watched it fell abruptly to the ground, unmistakably dead.

No sparks, no green light, no shushing sound. Just an invisible wave that seemed to crush them all, leaving them wan and shaky, rooted to their spots, unable to believe what they had just seen.

Severus reacted at last and closed the distance between him and his wife in five furious strides. He reached out his hand, with the vague thought of grasping her shoulder and bellow at her, but he did neither. Fiddler turned slowly to face him, white-faced and trembling…

And he caught her in his arms as she swooned.

He watched out of the corner of his eye Triskelion jumping back to the ground after he, apparently, realised Fiddler was out and would no longer hold him, but he had no second thoughts to spare for the dog as he carried Fiddler back into the house. He deposited her carefully on the nearest couch and crouched next to her, smoothing her hair away from her face.

He heard Molly fussing around in the kitchen, sending Arthur for some brandy, yelling at the twins for being in her way, asking Tonks for a knife and shrieking in despair when the young female Auror cut herself with it.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry—" she stammered. "I'm just—"

But what she was, she didn't say. Not that Severus needed it spelled out. They were _all_ shocked to death.

"That's OK, Tonks… Arthur, get the knife, will you? Cut a lemon and…"

Severus stopped listening, as he saw Potter, Granger and the Weasleys were gathered in the corner, discussing what had just happened in hushed voices, and Severus suddenly felt the need to curse them all into next week. But a soft pained sound coming from his collapsed wife drew his attention back to her.

"Please— Leave me— It— _Hurts_—" she choked out.

"Fiddler?"

Severus peered into her half shut eyes and fell ungracefully to the floor on his backside.

Fiddler's eyes were bright yellow, with vertical pupils like a cat's.

§

From Severus Snape's point of view, things just got worst after that.

Fiddler woke up a good two hours later, with no recollection whatsoever of the incident, her lower back and belly aching horribly, but, and thank Merlin for that, her greenish-blue irises back on place. Molly had pressed a cup of incredibly strong tea with lemon juice into her trembling hands and watched her in her very on motherly way until she drank it all.

After that, and to everyone's astonishment, Severus had gathered Fiddler in his arms and taken her upstairs to their room, where he laid her on the bed and settled himself next to her. She was still rather droopy and weak looking, but nevertheless she crawled into Severus' arms and let out a contented sigh against his chest.

She fell asleep almost instantly and Severus eyed her thoughtfully, his analytic mind trying to decode the mystery she'd become. Could it be their magical binding? He nodded to himself, thinking it could be possible. Albus Dumbledore's sense of humor could go beyond the evident, but this time had gone far enough…

Or maybe it was the children in her womb. Yes, Severus had read somewhere that women in the grip of their bodies' crazed hormones could turn into frightening Banshees during pregnancy, and Fiddler was already half one to begin with. He tried to laugh at it, but for the life of him couldn't do it. What had happened with that accursed wolf had been too frightening, even for Severus' standards.

Severus stifled a yawn and cradled Fiddler in his arms, and just as he was deciding he could think it over and discuss it with Fiddler the following morning, she went rigid in his embrace and let out what was unmistakably a moan of pain.

"Fiddler?" Severus asked immediately. "Fiddler, what's wrong?"

She didn't answer. She convulsed again, her fingers curling to claws, her legs fighting their way close to her chest, and she whimpered again. Severus watched her arms wrap themselves involuntarily over her bulging belly and her back arched backwards, the cords of her neck standing up.

"Oh… no…" she moaned. "Oh, god, please, _no…"_

"Fiddler!"

Severus shook her but she still didn't react. She curled up into a ball, trying to breathe through what it looked like searing pain, but all she managed were ragged moans through gritted teeth. Then she let out an even louder scream.

"NO, NO, NO! LEAVE ME, LEAVE ME, IT _HURTS!"_

Severus was scared now. This wasn't normal and he'd seen enough of Dark Magic to recognize it when faced with it. For the first time it dawned on him that Banshees were dark creatures and that the one currently lurking inside his wife was winning the battle and taking over.

And he couldn't let that happen.

Eventually Fiddler's pain seemed to subside, leaving her sweaty and shaken, her waist-length hair covering her face and her upper body. She had a hand to her belly, convulsively wrapped around the swelling; she was unconscious and her skin was incongruously blushed.

"Fiddler?"

He sat up in bed and felt for her pulse, as she'd done for him on previous occasions. There was one, but faint, erratic.

"Fiddler?!" he repeated, urgently. He took her in his arms and lifted her from the bed. She was limp as a discarded garment. His temper rose, and he looked around for something to blast to smithereens.

He felt so impaired, without a wand, without any magic at all; defenseless in his bed dressed in nothing but his sleeping attire and with an unconscious woman in his arms… He touched her belly in hopes of feeling his children moving inside, but they seemed to be asleep. At least, Severus _hoped _they were. Fiddler was barely breathing. Her skin was rather dry and hot to the touch. Severus frowned at the lack of sweat. He stroked her blushed cheek gently and moved his fingers to her eyelids, plying them open; her pupils were so dilated that it was almost as if her eyes had suddenly turned black, surrounded by a thin greenish blue halo. But at least there was no trace of yellow in them. Severus headed for the door, and he was about to open it when Fiddler moaned softly and opened her eyes.

"Severus…" she whispered, and his heart clenched at the pain in her voice. "Severus, it _hurts…_"

"What hurts? Fiddler? What—" he nearly sobbed then. He was so incredibly mad for not knowing what to do, how to help her.

"It hurts! God, it hurts _so bad_…!" Fiddler was crying in pain, twitching in his arms.

She seized again and Severus decided he'd had enough. Sod Dumbledore and his magical restraint, he was going to get a wand somewhere and help his wife. He opened the door and opened his mouth to speak when a sound stopped him again.

It was the damned CD player, but for once, the high-pitched soprano voice of the Finnish singer Fiddler nearly worshiped was nowhere to be heard. Instead, a deep male voice that reminded Severus strongly of his own started to sing:

_And here in the night  
as I feel the inferno  
I stare in the dark  
thinking what is eternal_

_The man or the moment  
the act or the reason  
these thoughts fill my head  
as I contemplate treason_

_Of dreams I have had  
and dreams I have pondered  
when late in the night  
my mind it would wander_

_To things I have done  
and then quickly regretted  
while denying vices  
my life had selected_

_And I think what I've done  
or have yet to begin  
and the man I've become  
and the man that I've been_

_Now caught in a waltz  
with the eternal dancer  
I'm courted by death  
but death isn't the answer  
I say_

The man kept singing, accompanied by violins, a piano and guitars, but Severus didn't pay attention. He remembered he'd once thought whether Fiddler was always able to find a song for every occasion, and he'd somewhat painfully discovered that indeed, she could. And he felt a cold hand around his heart. This couldn't be happening. Not now.

_And who would have thought  
that my fate it would conjure  
this twist in the road  
on which I have wandered_

_Each vision and dream now  
completely dismembered  
to give one's whole life  
and find nothing's  
remembered_

_And what good is a life  
that leaves nothing behind  
not a thought or a dream  
that might echo in time_

_The years and the hours  
the seconds and minutes  
and everything that  
my life has placed in it  
betrayed…_

Severus was numb and rooted to the spot, with Fiddler in his arms.

His thoughts were disconnected, he didn't know who was singing anymore. Was it himself? Was it Fiddler, her eyes shining sardonically as the music voiced his thoughts out loud, those endless, bitter times when Dumbledore's trust just hadn't been enough, when he'd felt observed and pointed at, when they'd made him feel like he sullied the Good, Bright, Brave Gryffindor Order by submitting them to his company, when he'd thought he'd always be seen as a Death Eater, as a tamed but dangerous monster that everyone should look out for…

Yet no one, with the possible exception of Dumbledore, remembered that said monster had been the father of a child that had died because of Gryffindor oh, so valuable recklessness.

Deep down, Severus was aware that perhaps Lucas' faith was to die ever since the minute he was conceived, but he hadn't been Sorted into Slytherin for nothing, and his scheming mind had convinced himself that if Potter and Black had stuck to the plans, things would have turned out quite differently.

But they hadn't, and Severus' life had taken an isolated, devastating path…

    And then… _a twist in the road_, in the form of a not-typically-beautiful Half Breed, with pretty much his own attitude and vision of life… It was like poetic justice, Severus mused, the Redeemed Death Eater and the Half-Banshee, two monsters everyone with enough brains would avoid… Linked to one another. Together.

As if, like his mother would have said, it had been meant to be all along.

  Fiddler relaxed gradually in his embrace, and her even breathing and tranquil face told Severus she was finally asleep. Apparently, she was out of danger. Slowly, Severus closed the door and retraced his steps. He put Fiddler back into bed and drew the bedclothes over her. He settled beside her and kissed her hair.

He was drifting into blissful sleep when Fiddler jerked awake and grabbed fistfuls of his nightshirt, her face pale, her eyes wild and her chest heaving. Her trembling hands traced the outline of his face and wandered down to his chest, but there was no seduction in the gesture; it seemed like she was trying to make sure he was there with her, alive and whole.

"Dear Merlin, Fiddler, _what's wrong!"_, he shouted, unable to help it.

Fiddler blinked repeatedly and rubbed her eyes. She frowned and looked at him.

"What?" she mumbled.

Severus was at a loss of words. It was just too much.

"Fiddler— You… you—" his voice failed him and he took a deep breath. "Don't you remember _anything?"_ he said at last, with a note of incredulity.

Fiddler shook her head.

"All right… I will explain later", Severus said then. "What happened just now, when you woke up and rattled me?"

Fiddler eyed him levelly and sighed.

"I dreamt I had killed you", she said flatly.

§§§

"So… that would be all", Severus said hesitantly.

Dumbledore had never yet failed on being there when he was most needed, and had in fact Apparated to Elvenpath the following day. Severus had wasted no time in informing the old wizard of the latest events and he was now anxiously waiting for a reaction.

"How is she now?" Dumbledore asked.

Severus hesitated for a moment.

"Fine… actually. She— Well, she had trouble sleeping, but… She is all right now. Nothing else has happened further to what I have already told you, sir".

"I see". Dumbledore remained silent for a while and then added: "Do you recognize her struggle?"

Severus stared at him and nodded slowly.

"I thought it might be something of the… sort", he said.

"It is. I told you once, my boy, Banshees are not benevolent…" Albus saw Severus jump indignantly and held out his hand. "I am aware of Fiddler's extraordinary qualities, Severus, but you must admit she's been through a lot, recently. Love, motherhood, magical binding to another… Three things she considered far beyond her reach. She's walking the same path you once paced…  Remember? Your world was shattered, your trust betrayed, your hope lost. And you had to struggle down the worst in you in order to rejoin our side, to be embraced as one of us…"

"I was never embraced as one of you, Headmaster", Severus said bitterly. "And neither has been Fiddler. She told me once, in reference to a Muggle fairy tale…" Severus looked up and then quoted her: "the popular story told that the Duckling was cast away by the other ducks because he was too ugly and different to be worthy of their company; so he found the swans. But they didn't embrace him and called him the most beautiful among them… They killed him because, even though he looked like a swan, he still acted like a duck".

Dumbledore blinked several times, the twinkle in his eyes nowhere to be seen.

"Do you not see? That's what happens… only it's not precisely that way… We might not act like ducks, but we surely still look like them."

"You mean you will always be thought of as a Death Eater, and Fiddler as a dangerous Dark Creature?"

"Yes, Headmaster", said Snape in a defeated voice. "That's what I mean".

Dumbledore eyed him sadly, but said nothing. Severus, wondering if he'd offended him, moved hastily back to their previous subject.

"So… Regarding Fiddler, sir… Will she be able to push down the worst of her, as you put it?"

Dumbledore smiled.

"But that's exactly the difference! She won't have to do such thing! She needs to find a balance and then— Then… She'll become a valuable ally".

"I am not sure if I want her to join us in battle".

"Ooh, but Severus, that's not your decision!" Dumbledore said merrily. "I told you once she's linked to Harry, and hence, to Voldemort's annihilation. Which brings me to ask you… is there anything else you'd like to tell me?"

Severus didn't answer immediately. He was reliving that particular conversation, and what Dumbledore had said: 'We cannot afford to lose her. She's full with Earth Magic, Severus. Earth magic and amazing intellect, no need for a wand there. Somehow she managed to inherit both the best part of her banshee and wizarding heritage…'

"Severus?"

"Yes… I am sorry, Headmaster. There's something still… I've just remembered it. Earth magic and all… On our Handfasting Night… She shed hair. Three hairs." He produced a small bottle from inside his pocket and handed it to the older wizard. "I know it seems… unimportant… But—"

"Banshees don't shed hair", said Dumbledore at once. "It is astonishingly magical, Banshee hair, but incredibly hard to acquire… The only way is for the Banshee herself to give it willingly… Which of course, never happens. They're rather temperamental, Banshees…". He eyed the bottle in his long fingers thoughtfully and added. "This could be a good omen, Severus, do you know? Yes… I am sure I will be able to put these valuable items to a good use. Now, if you'll excuse me… I need to discuss some things with Alastor".

Dumbledore stood up and, much to Severus' surprise, embraced him like he would have embraced a son.

"Take care of her", Dumbledore said as he walked away.

   That night was wild.

Fiddler usually never took the initiative, but that night she did, and Severus couldn't, for the life of him, remember a time when he'd felt so aroused, so astonished and so very satisfied in his life. They had jerked frenziedly, rolling over one another, chests heaving, groaning and whispering with anticipated anxiety until everything around them exploded with fierce pleasure, Fiddler arching against him, possessiveness surrounding them, as they chanted they affirmation together.

 And, as Severus lay in bed, panting, holding an equally exhausted Fiddler in his arms, his back still aching from the raking of her fingernails on it, he thought rather wickedly he didn't know whom did he want to win the battle…

If the tender woman or the wild Banshee…

For both looked quite appealing to him.


	31. The Pray among the Wolves

Chapter 31 The Prey among the Wolves 

Fiddler grunted, shifting awkwardly in bed, trying to find a posture. It was getting harder to sleep comfortably as their babies grew bigger, and Fiddler made Severus laugh everytime she complained that one of them was crushing her bladder and the other one, her diaphragm, with a very Slytherin sense of going for others' weaker points.

She sat down in bed and put a hand to her belly, where one of her children was rhythmically kicking, as if trying to say something in Morse code.

"Give me a break, would you", she told him or her. "Momma needs to get some sleep".

The baby kicked.

"Is that a yes?"

Kick.

"All right then. Thanks a lot."

She got up laboriously to go to the bathroom and looked at her sleeping husband with a smile on her face. She returned to bed waddling about and crawled under the covers, snuggling as close to Severus as her belly allowed her. She kissed his shoulder and he mumbled sleepily, catching her in his embrace.

"What time is it?" he whispered.

"Four thirty".

"It is nearly time for you to go, is it not?"

"Yeah".

"Stay", Severus said.

"I can't. Must work."

"Please. They are driving me crazy".

She chuckled and nuzzled his neck. He moaned.

"Do not start it if you do not intend to finish it", he admonished.

She smiled mischievously.

"I must shower in half an hour… Are you up to it?"

He groaned in response, and kept doing passionate noises as he moved to touch her body, getting rid of her oversized shirt and her underthings, stroking her belly and breasts, heavier and fuller than ever. He suckled her hardened nipples and was startled when she actually whimpered loudly for once.

"Did I… hurt you?"

"No— I— Ooh… Just… They're oversensitive, I guess…"

Severus grunted, incredibly aroused by her ragged answer, and resumed his caresses as her small hand traveled down his navel and lower to grasp his erection. She slid her fingertips around it with incredible softness and Severus' hips bucked helplessly. She killed him with the slightest of touches and he still marveled at the tenderness and delicacy with which she made love, in shocking contrast with her usual energetic self. Except for that one time… Which hadn't repeated itself, and Severus did not know whether to regret it, or be thankful for it.

A woman full of contradictions, he thought, delighted among the waves of pleasure, enjoying her strokes as her other hand wandered around his chest and back. He helped her to shift to her side, back turned to him, and he buried his face between her shoulder blades, licking at her skin greedily, making her shiver.  His lips wandered lower, kissing the tattoo on the small of her back, and finally he entered her from behind as his fingers caressed her swollen folds. He moved smoothly, gently, kissing the nape of her neck and breathing in the scent of her hair as she bucked against him to meet his thrusts.

It didn't take long for any of them, and soon enough they were lying in each other's arms, panting and kissing, hands still stroking their respective bodies.

"I must shower…" she murmured lazily.

"I'll join you".

She laughed.

"No you're not. I'm late already and if you do it I'll never make it".

"I grant you that one, but the fact is I could not care less", he said.

She smacked his chest playfully and kissed her way up from it to his mouth. Finally, he allowed her to get up and waddle towards the bathroom. She came out a short time later, wrapped in a purple towel, surrounded by a wonderfully-smelling fog, her hair wet and her skin looking smooth. She dried herself off, she put on some lotions and got into an enormous light blue scrub.

"Are you feeling specially cruel today, Fiddler?" he asked huskily, his eyes fixed on her.

She frowned, confused.

"No… Why?"

"You are torturing me, _álainn"._

"Ah! Oh… I'm sorry…"

She crawled onto the bed and kissed him apologetically. He didn't relinquish his grip on her for ten minutes.

"I must go", she said, finally. "I'll be back early at night… I hope".

"I shall be here", Severus replied, and he sounded gloomy as he watched her leave their room from bed.

    Severus wandered around the house all day feeling unaccountably unease. A pesky sense of premonition prickled in the back of his mind, constricting his throat and making him walk restlessly around the library, unable to focus in his reading.

"Severus?" he heard Tonks' inquiring voice behind him. "Are you all right?"

"As good as usual", he replied silkily.

Tonks sighed impatiently.

"You know, you could drop your indifference every once in a while… Even I can tell you are worried".

Severus eyed her thoughtfully and finally said:

"The truth is I am. I do not normally pay attention to inner foreboding, but I fear Fiddler is in danger".

"How's she doing?"

"The pregnancy is going quite all right", Severus said. "It is… not that. At least, I do not think so".

"What, then?"

Severus shook his head.

"I am not certain".

"She's not doing any more magic, is she?" Tonks asked worriedly.

"No, she's not. The wolf thing was the last thing she… did. I don't think she even attempts to read minds now… She's frightened".

"I would be as well…" said Tonks. "But Dumbledore told us not to worry about it".

"Yes, but I do. When she was performing this… wandless magic, I didn't fear for her. But now she seems so helpless… So vulnerable…"

"That's common to every men I've met! You love to think your women are fragile. So you can get to play heroes and protect them. But, trust me, Snape… Fiddler's _everything _but weak".

And with that, Tonks walked out of the room.

Severus looked at the clock in the library and sighed. He then walked towards the portrait of Wallace McGonagall, hanging now in the place of honor above the chimney, in between the portraits of Fiddler's adoptive parents. Severus examined the painting, which Minerva had charmed before she sent it for it not to move, and he marveled at the fact that the man in the canvas had actually been Minerva's brother, as he didn't resemble her in the least.

Wallace McGonagall had been a fierce-looking man (well, that's some resemblance after all, Severus corrected himself), with a bushy crown of golden red locks, a rather unexpected, almost blonde moustache, and the exact same greenish blue eyes as Fiddler. He had wide shoulders under the purple robe he wore, and a huge golden ring on the pale hand, which was holding his wand.

Severus couldn't find similarities between the man in the portrait and his wife, except for the eyes, and the somewhat fiery expression, and he raised his shoulders, wondering what had Fiddler's Banshee mother had looked like. He walked towards a chair with a book to read, and despite all his worries he dozed off without realizing it.

        Fiddler raised her eyes from the PC screen to look at the clock and rubbed her eyes.

She struggled to get up and stretched carefully, putting a hand to her pained back.

"Ready to go?" Pammy asked behind her.

"Yes, I just needed to finish this report, but I'm on my way. The—Ow!"

She put a hand to her midriff, surprised at the stinging pain.

"Fidd? You OK?"

"Yeah… It was just… a contraction". She sounded bewildered.

"Braxton-Hicks?"

"No, those don't hurt".

"Oh, right. How far along are you?"

"Twenty-seven weeks".

"You must be careful, Fiddler", Pammy admonished her. "No offense, but you're huge and you _know_ hyper expansion isn't good for the uterus".

"Yes well", Fiddler said somewhat scathingly. "I'm huge because I'm expecting twins; and I talked to Hastings yesterday and he told me I won't be able to claim maternity incapacity until I reach 30 weeks _at least._ And even that cost me half an eye".

"Damn it all. That's stupid".

"Tell me about it. But you were in the same case, weren't you?"

Pammy had delivered a healthy baby boy a month ago and she had just reincorporated to work.

"Yes, but I wasn't expecting twins. Yours is a high-risk pregnancy, Fiddler, and you know it".

"Yes, _I know_ it. _I went_ to med school. I am not so sure about Hastings, though".

Both women chuckled.

"He's a man, he'll never get it", Pammy said.

"Yeah… Well. See you tomorrow, Pammy, kiss your son for me."

"Will do. Bye-bye, take care".

Fiddler nodded and grabbed her backpack and her coat to leave the office. She waddled funnily towards her Denali and realised she'd soon need a cab to go to work. Damned be Hastings. She struggled to get in and she was about to close the door when a gloved hand prevented it.

"Hello", said the cold, drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy. "It is good to see you again… Where is your… do you call it a _gun?_"

And then everything went black.

        Fiddler woke up slowly to find herself sprawled in a rather cold tile floor, shaking, with goose bumps in her skin, and curled protectively over her belly. The back of her head hurt like hell, and as she tried to move she discovered her hands and feet were tied.

_Blast._

_What the hell am I doing here?_

_Duh, Fiddler, guess again._

_Shut up._

She wriggled, and felt the babies kick.

"I know, I _know_, I want to get out of here as well. Be quiet, now, Momma needs to think…"

She wriggled and writhed some more, but the bindings were strong and well placed, and, Fiddler suspected, magical as well. She snorted and tried to sit up, but she couldn't do even that.

_Pregnant and Bound, Fiddler Snape's Most Excellent Adventure,_ her mind said scathingly.

_You know, you made it sound like a cheap porn film._

Fiddler laughed despite herself.

_Shut UP!_

_Oh, sorry._

She was just deciding she might as well sleep until something more interesting happened when a boot in her back made her fight the strangling urge to scream in pain.

"Well, well, well", Lucius Malfoy said. "Severus' Muggle bitch. Such a pleasure".

He kneeled suddenly and grabbed Fiddler by her thick braid forcefully, nearly snapping her neck, and brought her up to her knees.

"Look at me when I talk to you", he whispered dangerously.

Fiddler fixed her gaze on him challengily and spat at him.

_I always wanted to do that,_ she thought, incongruously gleeful, just before his fist made contact with her face. Blood flew from her nose and she closed her eyes.

_Ouch._

"Do that again and you'll be very sorry indeed", Malfoy warned.

He worked open her coat and grunted in surprise as he took in Fiddler's obviously pregnant belly. His eyes gleamed maliciously, as if someone had just offered him Heaven in a silver tray.

"He's got you with child…" he grabbed her left hand rudely and positively gloated then. "He has married you! Oh, this just gets better and better…!"

He hit her again, just for the fun of it, Fiddler was sure, and he lowered his head to kiss her savagely.

_Oh, no you're not._

Fiddler, although she seldom mentioned it, had been a swimming champion in her childhood and early puberty, butterfly style being her specialty. Med School and other occupations had put swimming championships aside, only contenting herself with an occasional splash in her long forgotten pool. Well, this was the time to get reacquainted with old skills, Fiddler mused, as she shifted her shoulders swiftly and unexpectedly, as if preparing to give a butterfly stroke.

It worked.

Fiddler hit Malfoy in the jaw with her right shoulder, and he remained in front of her, half-kneeled and swaying, blinking as if he had suddenly been blinded. Fiddler finished the job by shooting her head up and thumped him fully under the chin and neck. It hurt like Hell, but it was worth it. Malfoy fell to his side limply, and good Gods in heaven, his wand rolled out of his sleeve… and stopped two feet away from Fiddler.

"Damn!"

She sat on her heels, feeling numb already and groaned.

"Kids, we're in trouble. Momma can't get that stupid wand without falling over you two… and even so… why do they always tie people's hands at their backs?"

To prevent them from grabbing things, that was obvious.

She felt a hearty kick as if offering support and she moved forward on her knees, wriggling like a standing worm, but she stopped as she felt she was losing her balance.

"Oh, it's no use… I'm going to fall over…", Fiddler watched Lucius Malfoy stir and mumbled frantically, "Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no… Stay out, you twit, stay _out…_ Oh, why can't I GET that stupid WAND?!"

And then, the unbelievable happened. The wand flew right to her tied hands.

"Yes!" she cried, astonished. "Oh, I got it, I _got_ it… how I did it, don't care… What was that spell? Um—_Diffindo?"_

_That_ was the spell. Fiddler's hands were freed and she thanked Hermione profusely for bothering on teaching her spells when they were at Hogwarts despite she didn't even had a wand. She severed the magical cords binding her ankles and stood up laboriously. She felt dizzy and had to lean down on a chair for support, noticing the room's décor for the first time, rather dark and elegantly decadent. There was a wide four poster bed in the middle, with black satin curtains and Fiddler wanted to laugh out loud at the image. The only thing amiss was the coffin and the bat, she thought irreverently.

Lucius Malfoy opened his eyes just then and he froze at the sight before him, Fiddler _Snape_ standing in all her pregnant splendor, wrapped in her blue scrub, one foot in front of the other and aiming his own wand at him as a fencer.

"Move, and you'll be very sorry indeed", she mimicked his previous words.

Malfoy struggled to maintain his dignity, but it was hard to do so lying on the floor with blood dripping out of his nose, his usually tidy blond hair all over his face and his own wand aiming at him.

"What would a Muggle bitch know about wand dueling?" he sneered.

"Bitch? I grant you that one. Muggle, not so much", Fiddler spoke lightly, as if he hadn't insulted her. "Or didn't your _lord_ tell you the reason why he sent you to summon me in the first place?"

Malfoy did not answer. Not that she expected him to. She still remembered the episode with his offspring.

"I thought as much", she said smugly, and brought her hands to her head, undoing her braid and shaking her head so that her heavy tendrils tumbled down to her waist, and she felt immensely pleased when she saw his eyes widen in recognition. "I am a Banshee, Lucius", she whispered malevolently. "_And_ a Witch. Read your History of Magic? Imagine the possibilities… And, despite what you might have heard, the truth is I am not kind at all. Oh, and another bad new… I _do_ know how to use a wand. _Stupefy!" _she cried out the Stunning spell, praying that it would work because her last statement wasn't entirely true.

It worked.

Malfoy fell over once more, and stayed there.

"Way to go", she told herself. "Now get the hell out of here".

She strode swiftly towards the door and opened it.

It was a big mistake.

Five dark figures walked inside, and although Fiddler raised the wand and tried to say something, the truth was she wasn't quick enough. One of them squeezed the wand out of her hand, two restrained her and the other two went to Malfoy to charm him back to rights. They approached her with murderous intentions and eyed Malfoy questioningly. Undoubtedly, he was the king of the show.

"No magic", was all he said.

And so, they begun beating her systematically, as they'd have punched a sparring bag. They didn't even seem to realise what they were doing, and that scared Fiddler more than the throbbing pain spreading in her body. She only but curled over her belly as much as the two men holding her by her arms allowed, and then she thought that these were probably the same men that had held Severus upright when she'd witnessed Malfoy beat him to a pulp as he tortured him with his memories.

Her mind, trying desperately to get away from the pain, from the humiliation, wandered away, swirling slowly and almost elegantly among hues of blue, of gray, of purple…

And began to sing.

Only so many times,  
I can say I long for you.  
The lily among the thorns;  
the prey among the wolves.

Then she mercifully blacked out. That didn't stop Malfoy, though; he grabbed his companion by the back of his hood and ordered the two men holding her to keep her upright as stepped forward and beat her again and again, blatantly aroused by the sight of her blood.

"LUCIUS!" roared a voice behind them. "Leave her!"

"Atherton", Malfoy sneered, heaving, but he stopped.

"You are not to touch her, Lucius", Atherton said, "You know Our Lord's orders… He'll be most displeased if they aren't fulfilled. Now, step back".

Very reluctantly, Malfoy and his cronies obeyed, the two holding Fiddler letting her fall carelessly to the ground. She didn't move. Atherton shot the men a dirty glance and approached the unconscious woman, taking her in his arms and carrying her to the bed.

"Oh, that was sweet", Malfoy spat. "I'll mention it to Snape, I'm sure he will thank a fellow traitor".

"Don't be stupid, Malfoy. I am not a traitor. Unlike you, I am actually following my Lord's orders. He specifically told us not to harm this woman".

Malfoy shrunk his shoulders, managing to make the gesture look scathing. Atherton ignored him, and surveyed the woman on the bed. He suddenly took in her pregnancy and faced Malfoy again, outraged.

"Are you insane?"

"Why do you care all of the sudden? You've done worst. Need I remind you?"

"No, you do not. But have you got no brains? That child could mean the Dark Lord's downfall!"

"All the more a reason to destroy it!"

"You idiot!!" Atherton hit Malfoy on his already battered face. "He needs something, either from her or the child, you can't go about doing your will!"

Atherton looked ad Fiddler's bloodstained face.

"Clean up this mess", he advised. "If our Lord sees it—"

"Coward", Lucius spat. He made no move to do as told.

Atherton shook his head and sighed. He took out his wand and Scourgified Fiddler, who was still out. Her face was awfully bruised and her left hand hung limply over the edge of the mattress. Atherton looked at her again and something deep within him cringed. He quickly smothered it, though, as he had orders to carry on with.

  Fiddler woke with the metallic taste of blood in her mouth. She moved laboriously and curled into a ball. Her limps were numb and incredibly sore, and she moaned softly  in the darkness. She felt the babies move about and let out a very quiet but relieved sigh. She put a hand to her belly as if trying to reassure them and smiled despite her pain.

At least_ they _were all right.

She, on the other hand…

Her face pulsed in agony and it felt oddly swollen and lumpy.

_I must look like the loser side of a street fight_, she thought.

_Oh, get a grip, your face was never your best feature anyway._

_Yeah… you're right. But it hurts, though. Do you think they broke something?_

She spent the next few minutes carefully moving each juncture in turn, until she convinced herself there were no sensible fractures. She breathed in deeply, and was relieved when she felt only a little pain on her side. No broken ribs either. She touched her own face gently and concluded her nose was intact, both eyes still on place, and no teeth missing. Apparently they had beat her with more fury than accuracy.

Oddly enough, she felt like laughing.

She choked on the chortle, and heard a noise somewhere around her left. She instantly went taut, steeling herself for another whomping ration. A candle was lit, and Fiddler held back a shocked breath as she was confronted with the beautiful face of Wynn Ludlow.


	32. The Lily among the Thorns

Chapter 32 The Lily Among the Thorns 

A million thoughts seemed to swirl in Fiddler's mind.

_It can't be, she's dead, he _killed _her, oh my God, he's bigamous, shut up, Fiddler, _not_ a thing to be worried about just now, you know he killed her, you _saw_ it, oh, god, she'll kill me, oh, dear, the babies, FIDDLER, GET A GRIP, and shut your mouth, you look stupid—_

"Are you awake?" Wynn asked, gently.

Despite herself, Fiddler nodded.

"You—you—", she said, hoarsely. Her throat was dry.

"Do you feel all right?"

Fiddler looked at her in open disbelief.

"What?"

"My question was fairly simple. Do you feel all right?"

Fiddler felt outraged at the gentle tone she used. As if she was talking to a child.

"So will be my answer", she responded, in her best I-am-Severus-Snape's-Wife-_now _tone. "It is none of your business".

Surprisingly, Wynn laughed kindly, and smoothed away a tendril of Fiddler's hair.

"I _now_ see why he married you", she smiled.

It took Fiddler a conscious effort to keep her jaw from dropping, making it easier to overlook the derisive way in which she'd said the word "now".

"You know… And you… You…"

"We all know about it", Wynn accepted. "Lucius saw fit to inform us".

Fiddler didn't reply. She closed her eyes in pain, thinking bitterly that despite there were no broken bones, her body still was a throbbing agony. She curled over herself and bit back her tears.

_Oh, no, she most definitely _won't_ see _you_ cry, lass._

_Damn right._

She was startled to feel a hand on her shoulder, in tentative comfort.

"It is all right, Fiddler", she heard Wynn say, and her eyes widened helplessly.

"Wynn—" she began, but was interrupted by the other woman's musical laughter. She seemed heartily amused.

"Oh, I am not her! Is that what your wariness is about?"

Fiddler ignored her last comment.

"But you look… Just like her…" she mumbled, feeling weaker and more confused by the minute.

"That I grant you. It has earned me Voldemort's utmost respect… for whatever that's worth. I'm Briallan Ludlow, Wynn's younger sister".

Unbelievably, she extended her hand; and what was most extraordinary, Fiddler took it hesitantly.

Briallan seemed concerned.

"You're cold as ice", she said and took out her wand to cast a warming spell, Fiddler wincing helplessly as if fearing she'd curse her.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, curiosity getting the best of her.

"It's a long story", Briallan replied somewhat sadly. "I want to help you and we'll leave it at that".

Yes, she was undoubtedly Wynn's sister.

Fiddler was offered a cup of tea and her face was gently cleaned and Briallan's wand touched to her wounds, only leaving a dulled pain behind. She was then wrapped in a warm blanket. Briallan's hand brushed her belly for half a second, but it was enough to bring bright tears to her ocean eyes.

"You loved him as well, didn't you? Lucas, I mean", Fiddler said, and watched Briallan jump.

"Severus told you about him?" she sounded astounded.

"Yes… sort of", Fiddler thought it better not to speak of her abilities.

Briallan sighed.

"He was such a joy", she said, evocatively. Her eyes shone suddenly.

"How old were you?"

"Seven. Wynn was my idol… How could she not be?", Briallan spoke bitterly. "She was everything Father and Mother always wished us to be. I— was not. And Severus… Well, he was always kind to me. As kind as a man of his nature could be. He seemed amused at my— intelligence… and predisposition for Potionmaking. But that ran in the family…"

Fiddler smiled despite herself. She was beginning to like Briallan.

"How long have you been married to him?" she asked quite suddenly, changing the subject.

"Exactly seven weeks".

Briallan raised an eyebrow in somewhat mocking appreciation.

"That was precise".

"Well… we got Handfasted when I was twenty weeks along, and I am twenty-seven now".

"Ah! Handfasted? That must have been different from what he— knew."

Fiddler remembered the dark ritual in which Severus had married Wynn and shivered. She noticed Briallan's eyes on her, examining her outfit thoughtfully, and then heard her say, apparently without thinking:

"I never thought I'd see the day when a Pureblood Slytherin would marry a Muggle".

Fiddler detected the question hidden in the careless comment, and decided not to take the also implied insult.

"Well, you're young. You'll see that each day you can learn something new".

Briallan's eyes widened, as she wasn't expecting that answer.

"Oh, and as for the Muggle part, I don't know what is it between you and them, but if it matters that much to you, I'll have you know I am not a Muggle", she spoke lightly, as if talking about the weather, and that stung Briallan.

"But… your clothes…"

"Never judge a book by the cover", Fiddler said. "But I understand that you're confused. The truth is I was brought up as a Muggle. In fact, I am a doctor, which would be a Healer in your magic world… and actually, I am a Half-breed".

Briallan raised an eyebrow again, half inquiring and half surprised.

"So that is why the Lord wants you".

"I guess." Fiddler didn't elaborate, as she knew Briallan was expecting her to. She remained silent for a while and then asked, not knowing if she really expected a straight answer: "So are you with him or against him?"

Briallan surveyed her, apparently lost in thought.

"That would be hard to say. I grew up among Dark Wizards and I didn't know anything else for a long time… I had the memory of what Wynn did to Lucas buried deep down… She was praised beyond belief for her… _sacrifice_, and that was all that remained…"

She looked away, as if she couldn't stand the memory.

"Did you see it?"

"Yes. Saw it from my window. I saw everything. I— had known all along what she did to him… I was the one who told Severus about it.  Wynn didn't talk to me for months… Severus left that very night, and remained in Hogwarts ever since. We were never able to find the place where he buried Lucas… He must have Unplotted it well".

"Don't tell me you wanted to bury Wynn next to him".

"She was his mother", Briallan said repressively.

"She murdered him".

Briallan didn't reply to that.

"So Severus really left our ranks?" it was more a question than a statement and Fiddler read through it, hence keeping her answer. "It is all right, you know. I do not belong with them either".

"Yes, and still suck my thumb".

_You actually do, Fiddler_, her mind told her.

_Shut up._

"I understand that you're wary", Briallan was saying. "I would be. But you have my word. And the word of a Ludlow is not to be despised".

Fiddler raised an eyebrow in her trademark irony.

"I'll save my comments".

Startlingly enough, Briallan laughed.

"You're so much like him".

"I guess that's a compliment?"

"See? There you go again!"

This time, Fiddler mirrored her smile.

Briallan shook her head slightly and her eyes blurred evocatively, and Fiddler saw suddenly a seven-year-old Briallan gathering herbs guarded by the Full moon… She was immensely proud that she had been granted the honour of acquiring the plants for Wynn's potion…

Then, Fiddler saw Wynn yelling at Briallan for botching something, and Severus, sitting on a chair by the fire, a book in his hands, ordering his wife absent-mindedly to leave the girl alone; Fiddler watched little Briallan's mesmerized gaze fixed on Severus as he brewed a potion, his much younger face creased in concentration, his black robes floating around him…

She was now watching him duel with Malfoy, surrounded by cheering crowds of Death Eaters, wagers being placed, and the Dark Lord eyeing his two servants with a smug look… Severus' body tense in his Slytherin attack position, disarming Malfoy, managing to look haughty and bored at the same time…

Briallan was at her window now, watching her sister stirring a cauldron, yelling incantations out loud, robes and hair billowing madly around her and the bleeding boy in her arms, Severus on his knees… _No, Wynn, no, please don't, it's Lucas, it's your son, stop her, Severus, stop her, somebody…_

Fiddler watched Wynn's father kneeling next to his dead daughter, the Dark Mark fading in his arm, rain falling forcefully over them, as he held her, screaming, cursing, and swearing to Severus' death… As Briallan watched from her window, hating her father, hating Wynn for being so beautiful, so perfect, hating Severus for leaving, crying for Lucas, wanting to jump out and sink in oblivion…

Then, her father's hand slapping her, Briallan tumbling down to the floor, rolling away, cowering… Her father, mad-eyed, blinded by pain and rage… _You shall stay and guard your sister's body… Don't you dare leave her… Pay her your respects… You're not worthy of her…_

Briallan, locked up in Severus's writing room, arms around his oak chair, painful tears rolling down her cheeks, begging for him to come back… She had a bruise on her face, blood dripping from her nose… Everything was just a throbbing, endless agony…

Briallan, the teenager, whipped to unconsciousness by her own father, as he cursed relentlessly and his words echoed in her head…_ Let your sister's assassin die…_

Briallan, trying to run away, only to get caught and beat mercilessly by a maddened man that she had stopped calling 'Father'…

_Blood Traitor… You're not worthy of the Name you carry… You should have died instead of Wynn…_

_Yes…  I should have. I dare you to kill me._

More beats, more whips, more scathing words…

Present-day Briallan was kneeling on a dark altar, blood dripping from both her palms, pain searing through her as the Dark Mark was burned into her pale skin, as she swore allegiance to her Family, her Blood and her Lord…

"You lied", Fiddler said, breaking their connection purposely, as she couldn't stand it another second.

Briallan looked at her, bewildered.

"When you took the Dark Mark. You lied".

"How—How—", for the first time, her voice faltered.

"You lied because you had already witnessed the deceit entwined with the promise… the Lord didn't give a radish about family and loyalty. He had already shattered _your_ family and blood… He had already shattered _you"._

Briallan's mouth fell open.

"You don't need to tell me why you want to help me, Briallan. I got a good glimpse of your reasons".

Briallan seemed really embarrassed.

"I— do not wish your pity".

"You don't have it. But, Briallan, if we manage to get out of here… You're welcome to stay at my house".

Fiddler spoke those words from her heart, ignoring the nagging of her paranoid mind, that was trying to warn her about the strange fascination of that girl with Severus, and, although she didn't quite know what she expected Briallan to do, what she actually did utterly startled her; she threw her arms around Fiddler and broke into uncontrollable, heart-breaking sobs.

A fragment of the song Fiddler had remembered earlier came to her mind again. And she suddenly realised that, if she had thought of herself as the Prey among the Wolves, Briallan Ludlow most certainly was the Lily among the Thorns.


	33. All this Beauty is Killing Me

**Chapter 33**

**All This Beauty is Killing Me**

Briallan had managed to captivate the inhabitants of Elvenpath ever since the minute she Apparated into the house's sitting room, supporting a very disheveled and pale Fiddler with one arm.

They had all been shocked at their sudden appearance and at Fiddler's tale, but everything was quickly forgotten in lights of beautiful hair and charming face smiling seductively to all the males in the room in turn.

Fred and George lurked around her all day long, smiling like dunces everytime they got a kind word from her; Harry and Ron had turned into Briallan's unconditional slaves, much to Hermione and Ginny's displeasure, and even Moody was oblivious to the fact that Briallan was a former Death Eater, for he treated her as she was a fallen angel. Only Lupin seemed impervious to Briallan's charms, hence Tonks being the only female who didn't actively hate her. Molly found her unnerving; Ginny and Hermione were always plotting new and interesting ways of murdering her…

And Fiddler was deeply regretting whatever kindness of her heart had made her take Briallan in.

Severus had evolved from sheer shock to suspicious enthrallment, and Briallan, outrageously blatant in her admiration for him, seemed sewed by the robes to her… could Severus still be considered her brother-in-darkness? Fiddler wondered everytime she saw them. And even though she tried to see the funny side, she was failing. Dismally.

She had pressed all cords within her reach to get maternity incapacity so she could stay at home and keep a watchful eye on her dazzled husband and her dazzling protégée, and so far her paranoid mind was at ease, as apparently there was nothing to worry about.

But she couldn't help the lump that constricted her chest everytime she saw Briallan, and then pictured her own pregnant, waddling, stretch-marked, pale image. The resulting comparison wasn't favorable for Fiddler.

But she wasn't as fool as to make recriminations out loud of things that right now were nothing but the obvious result of her lack of self-esteem and her lifetime certainty that she was easily disposable and unworthy of love.

So she remained tensely silent at meals, watching with gritted teeth Briallan's endless chatter about all of Severus' virtues, hearing them talk about old acquaintances, magical plants and weird potions when they gathered in the library, Fiddler wanting more than life to lean her head on Severus' shoulder, but never finding the nerve to do it, knowing it would make him uncomfortable…

She wouldn't say a word when Briallan begged her to steal Severus 'just for a bit, Fiddler, please?', while she napped, so he wouldn't get bored and Briallan would have some company for her evening strolls… Despite of the fact that Fred, George, Moody, Harry, Ron, and even Arthur had proven more than willing to serve as her lapdogs, Fiddler thought bitterly.

But, nay.

 Briallan Ludlow had only eyes for Severus, and for Severus alone.

Fiddler was beginning to find her sadly narrated anecdotes annoying instead of heart-breaking, unearthing she had the growing suspicion that Briallan would tell all about what her parents and Wynn had done to her just to get people to pity her, despite of the fact she claimed she needed no pity at all. But there was Severus, who didn't want pity either, and he wasn't around broadcasting what he had gone through.

Somehow, Briallan had seen fit to inform them of Wynn's actions towards Severus and Lucas, something Fiddler had never ever dreamt of as she thought it was Severus's matter to tell, and had witnessed with horrified ears as Briallan made a full account of that tragic night as if they were discussing Ginny's dress or Tonks' hair.

Harry had left the dining table in such a hurry that had scalded Ron with the soup plate he tumbled over him. Hermione had stared both at Briallan and Severus in her very own dissecting way and said nothing, but she'd patted Fiddler's shoulder comfortingly before she left in search for Harry, closely followed by a really outraged Ginny.

No one had said a word, and Briallan was miffed at her tactic's failure, but she thought she solved matters by asking Severus to accompany her for a walk, leaving Fiddler sitting there, stranded with the mess Briallan's declarations had left. She felt she ought to comfort her husband, but after a minute she thought bitterly he already had something to do that for her.

Ever since, the atmosphere had been more than just a little tense. No one seemed to dare to look at Severus in the eye, and Harry was feeling more guilty than ever. Fiddler talked to him trying to making him see that it hadn't been his fault, technically, but nothing could take the thought away from Harry that he'd been the indirect cause of another boy's death.

"I asked Dumbledore, once", he said, numbly. "What made him think Snape had really stopped supporting Voldemort… And he answered… that it was a matter between Snape and himself… I didn't know… I… — I should apologize", he decided suddenly, and was startled when he heard everyone else's wails of denial.

"No!", exclaimed Ron.

"Are you crazy?", Ginny said.

"Don't you even think of it!" Hermione admonished, and she was soon lost into one of her well-known lectures about how that wouldn't solve things and it would be worst in the best of cases because Snape was…

But in that very minute Fiddler waddled in and further examination of Snape was put aside, the kids aiming to cheer their utterly depressed adoptive big sister up.

"Oh, come on, Fidd, cheer up", Ron said.

"Yeah, don't let that bitch get to you", added Ginny.

"Ginny!" Harry and Ron exclaimed.

"What?" Hermione jumped in her aid. "Oh, please. Just because you're too damn thick to notice doesn't mean the rest of us haven't seen what she's been doing…"

"Yes… In fact, you know what, Harry?" Ginny said, suddenly inspired. "She's the one who should apologize to Snape, not you. It was her sister who did it. And what does the git do? He hates you and nearly worships her! Talk about men doing stupid things…"

 Fiddler sighed.

"Do you want me to hex her, Fiddler?" Hermione said.

"You really hate her, don't you?" Ron asked resentfully.

"What is it that you see in her?" Fiddler asked, with a very sad voice.

That stung both Ron and Harry, and they blushed furiously, as they stuttered their answer.

"Well… Well… She's… enticing, Fiddler", Harry said. "I can't find another way to describe it. She―"

"Calls out your deepest instincts of male supremacy. She's a fragile, shining rose and you feel the need to protect her, is that it?" Fiddler spat.

Harry's jaw dropped.

"Yes… that's precisely it".

"Oh… That proves Mum right. She'd always tell me to stop acting so sovereign because men didn't like that… Oh, raw reality".

She hunched her shoulders with a defeated expression and sighed.

"Fiddler, don't be that way. Snape is just temporarily dazzled but he'll come around", Ginny said.

Fiddler snorted in a derisive way.

"Sure". She turned to Harry and Ron and challenged: "Would you 'come around', if you were him?"

Both kids remained silent for maybe a little more than it was necessary. Fiddler's smile was heartbreaking when she held out her hands in the universal sign of surrender.

"The Defense rests her case, your Honor", she said.

Fiddler would watch unwaveringly when Briallan patted Severus's arms in what she said was a friendly way, and would do nothing but grind her teeth and curl her hands into fists when she caught Severus staring at her with a rather bemused expression when he thought he was unobserved; she'd only cry alone when the thought occurred to her that in a battle between Briallan the Beautiful and Fiddler the Pregnant Whale, the second rival was the categorical loser.

Sadly enough, Fiddler had realised Briallan had more things in common with Severus than her. True enough, Fiddler was also a witch, but she hadn't been brought up as one, and she wasn't really into their culture. She barely knew anything about Severus' private life and family, and, from where Fiddler stood, the only thing that probably kept Severus by her side was whatever magical bindings Albus had placed on them on their Handfasting, and the babies he'd ended up accepting.

You give yourself no credit, do you?

Come on.

He loves you. It's difficult for him to say it, but he's said it.

Somehow, I am finding that hard to believe right now.

You know you could—

Shut up. I most definitely won't do such thing.

Yes.

Fiddler knew she could browse Severus' mind and find his true feelings, both for her and Briallan, but the truth was she didn't dare to.

She feared to find an answer she wouldn't like.

So she let it go, out of fear and out of pride, swallowing her sadness, sitting regally among her court of cats and dogs, jealously guarded by Triskelion, who, by the way, didn't seem to like Briallan much either.

And Fiddler would smile graciously and let Briallan 'steal' her husband 'just for a bit, please', and would watch them sulkily from her window as they walked slowly arm in arm, around the pool and the gardens, through the archway into the summerhouse.

Whatever they did or talked about in there was something Fiddler didn't allow her mind to go into.

And that was how she spent her days, pretending she didn't see Briallan's blatant harassment and Severus' lack of self-defense (to keep things even), and trying to forget she'd seen such things when he went to her at nights.

Trees have dropped their leaves,  
Clouds their waters  
All this burden is killing me  
  
Distance is covering your way,  
Tears your memory  
All this beauty is killing me…

       It was killing Fiddler, indeed.   
 

Dumbledore had Apparated to Elvenpath about three weeks after Fiddler's capture, and he seemed delighted at the sight of Fiddler's bulk; he swirled around her happily, murmuring charms and spells in his soft voice, and smiling to himself. He didn't seem surprised by Briallan's presence and, although Hermione and Ginny viciously suggested Fiddler that she should ask Dumbledore to practice some Legilimency with their Blonde Beauty, she stubbornly refused, and spent the rest of the evening trying to save Dumbledore form the amorous attack of her dogs and cats, all of which seemed totally enthralled with the old Wizard.

Molly did her very best with Dinner, and as they were doing the honors to a wonderful lamb with mint sauce, Dumbledore said:

"I have an announcement to make".

Everyone's eyes turned to look at him.

Fiddler hadn't been eating much lately, blaming it on the pressure of the babies on her stomach, so she merely pushed her almost intact plate away and drank a very long sip of chilled water.

"The magical restraint was set only by means of stealth and discretion", Dumbledore was saying. "We wanted to keep our new Headquarters as safe as possible and we managed it for almost eleven months. But our secrecy is useless now, as it is my magic ban. Henceforth, you are allowed to live as wizards again."

The younger members of the Order clapped and cheered enthusiastically.

They finished their meal with lifted spirits, except for Fiddler, to whom the ban's lifting didn't mean a thing, and, ironically enough, for Severus, whose wand had been snapped and not yet replaced.

They accepted Molly's suggestion of having coffee and tea in the library, and Albus smiled at the magically stock-still portrait of Wallace McGonagall, being his second magical act of the day to lift the charm placed upon it so it could move again.

"And it was about ruddy time, too!" he exclaimed. "I was getting numb already… Albus! My dear old friend! How ARE you?! It has been a while… How is Min?"

"Wally", Albus acknowledged. "Minerva is fine… Just her same old self, I am afraid".

Wallace McGonagall chortled heartily.

"Well, things wouldn't be the same at Hogwarts if she wasn't that way, I daresay. But, Albus, what is this place?"

"Ah! This is Elvenpath, your daughter's house".

Wallace's jaw dropped. His eyes wandered around the room until he found those which greenish-blue color matched his own and he stuttered:

"Deirdre?"

Fiddler stepped forward smiling openly for the first time in weeks.

"No, um— Dad. Fiddler".

"Fiddler?!" Wallace seemed outraged. He looked at both sides of his canvas and shook his head. "Oh, I am sure drat William Greene had something to do with it…", he added, pointing at Mr. Greene's portrait.

"No… It was Mother, actually".

"Mother? Ah, you mean Moira…" his finger pointed the canvas at his left. "Well, to me, you'll always be Deirdre." He eyed her critically and added: "That's a nice belly you've got there… Happily married, I expect?" he added, sternly.

Fiddler laughed.

"Yeah… Dad, meet your son-in-law, Severus Snape".

Wallace's jaw dropped again. His eyes darted from him to Briallan and he only said:

"Ah".

Fiddler looked at her father's portrait and suddenly decided a nice chat with the canvas would be in order. She was astonished when she didn't find the idea ridiculous.

The atmosphere had tensed a bit, and Dumbledore saw fit to cheer things up a bit.

"I brought some presents with me", he said, merrily.

He fumbled with an apparently hidden pocket in his layers of robes and produced three wands made of what it looked like a very dark, tough kind of wood.

"Harry", he called. "I give you a new wand. It is well known that yours and Lord Voldemort's will not fight against each other, hence I hope this one shall prove to be most efficacious… in the Final Battle".

"Er— Thank you, sir", Harry took the wand and examined it carefully. He had grown attached to his own wand, but he knew Dumbledore was right. And this new one looked mighty indeed, made of what it seemed like Hornbeam, a little longer and heavier than his own.

"Severus", Dumbledore continued, holding out the second wand. "A replacement for your wand. I hope you shall find it of your liking".

Severus gave a curt nod and took the wand. On a closer look, his was made of chestnut, and Briallan took it from his hands without asking for permission. Fiddler shot her a murderous look, but Briallan pretended not to have noticed.

"It is indeed a powerful wand", she declared, although no one had asked.

"That would be the intention", Hermione said, loud enough for Briallan to hear.

"Fiddler?" Dumbledore spoke before things got worst. "This one is for you".

"Oh… Thanks, Albus but… Apparently I am not made for wands", she said as she tried to ignore Briallan's smug look.

"You will find that this one was specially made for you", Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

Fiddler took her new wand hesitantly. It was made of rowan, and it was somewhat slender and easy to handle. She swayed it gently to get a better look and the kettle levitated into the air without her saying a word.

"Oh, it works!" she said gleefully. She moved the wand again and the kettle landed gracefully back on the table. "Did you see that?" she asked, as thrilled as a child, all her sadness momentarily forgotten at as if levitating a kettle qualified her to defeat Voldemort. "What's in it?" she asked.

"A most powerful substance, full of Ancient Earth Magic, my dear", Dumbledore said. "A hair from your head".

Briallan's mouth fell open.

"What?" she wailed.

No one answered.

"But… Albus, I don't shed hair…" Fiddler objected. "I've never had… Except for— Oh."

"That is right", Dumbledore said. "Except for that time at your Handfasting Night. Severus gathered those three precious hairs and gave them to me. One is in your wand, and the other two are in Severus' and Harry's."

"And what makes Fiddler's hair so special?" Briallan insisted with her I-wouldn't-break-a-plate smile.

Some derisive snickers were heard from the sofa in which Ginny and Hermione sat.

"The fact", Fiddler said, getting to her feet with all the dignity her pregnant belly allowed, "that I am a Banshee, Briallan. Now, if you'll all excuse me, I am going to bed."

And she left, not asking Severus if he'd join her or not.

Despite all her Pureblood bluff, Briallan had taken quite a liking for Muggle customs. She had discarded her swishy robes and had adopted Tonks' funky style, probably because she was the only one willing to advise her regarding make-up, outfits and demeanors. Now that they were free to use magic, Tonks would change her appearance by the second, and Briallan, apparently, was eager to follow her example.

They were sort of used to the pair's eccentricities, but the big surprise came when Briallan showed up at the breakfast table wearing shabby jeans and a pink T-shirt, her long blonde curls replaced by a waist-length, sleek, jet-black mane of hair that strongly resembled… someone else's.

"Well, I've always liked Fiddler's hair", she explained evenly as everyone stared at her.

"Dirty liar", muttered Ginny.

"Copycat", echoed Hermione.

Fiddler only raised her eyebrows derisively and tried to force down her mouthful of food.

"Oh, and I didn't Charm it", Briallan said cheerfully. "Tonks helped me to dye it".

Again, Fiddler's brow went up. Hermione and Ginny snorted. Not even Briallan's usual court of male admirers seemed to like her makeover. The underlying but very palpable thought was that she was getting things out of hand.

"Well? Do you like it? Severus?" she insisted as no one answered.

"It looks all right", he said curtly, but there was something in his eyes not even Fiddler could fathom.

She spent the day in her bedroom, with her feet up and trying to breathe. The babies were moving inside of her as calisthenics champs and her back muscles where screaming in pain. But that wasn't the main reason why she'd chosen to isolate herself from the rest of the house.

It was what her father's portrait had told her.

She wiped away her tears of anger, of hurt pride… of overwhelming sadness… And willed herself to be asleep, to stop thinking, to drift away…

But she couldn't.

You lost, Fiddler. Accept it and let him go.

Like Hell I will. She won't have him; over my dead body she'll have him—

She's Wynn's sister, you twit, don't tempt your luck.

She even dyed her hair to look like me! How can she? Is she mad?

She just wants to get him, don't get too flattered.

Oh, shut up. Not in the mood really. I have a bloody Dumb Blonde trying to snatch my husband away under my very nose.

And you'll give her the pleasure? Show some backbone, will you? And do STOP crying. Greenes don't cry.

I am not a biological Greene.

You KNOW my point. And I am sure if you ask Dad downstairs, he'll tell you McGonagalls don't cry either. In fact, you should get the Hell UP, go the Hell downstairs and tell her to bugger the Hell off! This is YOUR house, Fiddler, your GOD DAMNED house; and she won't insult you in it!

No… No, she won't. You're right.

Fiddler left her bed, hastily enough for a thirty-weeks-pregnant woman who was carrying twins, and went downstairs striding like a General towards a very anticipated execution. She was halfway the main hall when she realised she hadn't the slightest idea of where they could be.

She went to the library, but her father informed her they were not there. Of course they weren't. Ever since Wallace McGonagall had regained the power of speaking, Severus and Briallan had become suddenly allergic to the library, Fiddler thought scathingly.

She then directed her steps to the music room, and was startled to find Triskelion scratching the door frantically, howling and growling with all of his might, running back and forth thumping himself against the wood.

"Oi, Trisks, what's wrong?" Fiddler asked, concerned.

 The dog seemed in the verge of lunacy. She picked him up and reached for the doorknob, pushing the door open and freezing to the spot as she took in the sight before her flabbergasted eyes.

There, next to the piano, by the windowpane, were Briallan and Severus, in each other's arms… and they were kissing.


	34. Reluctant Seer

Chapter 34 

**Reluctant Seer**

Fiddler only but held her breath and nearly dropped Triskelion to the floor. It was his offended bark what broke the kissing couple apart, and Fiddler's expression turned unfathomable at the sight of Severus' face. She turned on her heels and closed the door silently behind her, although she'd very much wanted to slam it in his face.

She didn't go back to her room, for she knew that would be the first place where Severus would look for her. She took a detour and walked out of the glass door, going past the archway into a hidden spot among the York & Lancaster bushes, and sat awkwardly amidst the roses to cry away.

She wept until she thought her eyes would fall off, she cried until there were no more tears to be shed, but the pain in her heart didn't diminish in the least. She hugged, sort of, her knees to her chest, crushing her belly and not minding at all, and closed her eyes.

Oh, Gods… It hurts so bad… 

Fiddler remained like that until she calmed, which didn't happen for quite a while. She finally got numb and decided to go back into the house. She looked at her wristwatch and realised it was past five in the afternoon. She blinked, somewhat startled, for she hadn't supposed it had been that long. Getting to her feet laboriously, Fiddler waddled her way back into the house, the traces of her tears still imprinted on her face.

Severus was waiting for her at the glass door.

"Fiddler, I want to talk to you".

Fiddler squared her shoulders and her eyes darkened.

"Leave me alone".

And she shifted out of his grasp before he could take hold of her arm. She ended up in the library, thinking she'd sunken low indeed if she seriously thought that bawling at the magical portrait of her dead father would do any good, but to be honest she couldn't think of anything else. There was always Molly, of course, but she knew the reach of the woman's screeches, and she didn't want a Jericho trumpet in her house, thanks the same. Fiddler had thought she had no more tears, but she did, and she cried again as she told Wallace what she'd witnessed, curled in a sofa, hugging a cushion, until she fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion.

 Severus walked in and saw her in the sofa, still clutching the cushion; her face reddened and blotched with half-dried tears. He approached her silently and smoothed away a damp tendril of her hair. She didn't stir, and Severus, encouraged, held out his other hand to touch her belly, but then Fiddler's left shot forward, grabbing his forearm with such strength the delicate tendons of her wrists marked on her pale skin. He felt pain, as he'd never felt before, not even under _Cruciatus_, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't loosen her grip on him.

His face twisted in agony.

"Does it hurt?" she hissed, dangerously.

Severus neither nodded nor shook his head. He stared at her greenish blue eyes, shining with a terrifying light he'd only seen in another pair of eyes before… and his heart lurched. 

She squeezed harder, and Severus was a second away of issuing a scream of pure pain.

"I know it hurts. But trust me, what you're feeling doesn't even compare to what I feel right now".

She finally released him and Severus brought his intact hand to the damaged forearm. It was bluish-black in color, and Severus mused, had she clutched a little bit harder she might have ripped it off.

"Fiddler, I—"

"Why?" she interrupted him, sitting up in the sofa and hugging the cushion to her chest and belly. "Why, Severus? What did I ever do to you? You know, if you wanted to kill me, that was the very best way to do it, compliments from your Slytherin mind, I am sure."

She wasn't crying (yet), but it was a close call.

"I can explain".

"Oh, yes, you males can _always_ explain", Fiddler barked scathingly. "So what was it? Got carried away? Just horny? Lost in the moment? Did she force you into it? Did you get caught into a treacherous memory and suddenly thought you were twenty years younger and you were, not with Briallan, but with Wynn, your obscurely wedded, murderer-wife? Did she put you under _Imperius?_ Did she drink Polyjuice potion and turned into me? Well, go on!" she howled, as Severus remained silent, "I am waiting. Which one is it?"

"Oh, Fiddler…"

"Don't you 'Oh, Fiddler' me", she hissed, her voice low. "I am waiting to hear your lousy excuse".

"I… do not know what happened".

"Damn, I forgot to mention that one!", she said, shielding herself in irony as she always did. "Well, I do know what happened and quite well, in fact. So, if you want to go to her, I am right behind you. I won't stop you".

"Fiddler—"

"I am a good loser, Severus… I learned a while ago to step out of lost fights with my dignity intact. _Gloria victis, _I salute the beautiful winner", she bowed her upper body mockingly. "I won't go on my knees, beg and cry for you to stay. I love you, but apparently that wasn't enough, was it? So that's the deal", she got to her feet, throwing the cushion away. She took out the rings she wore on her left hand and held them out to Severus. "Here", she finished, putting them in his resisting hand. "I am sure they'll look better in her hand. I wish you joy".

And she managed to walk out of the library in three long strides, feeling utterly heart-broken but strangely proud that she had succeeded on not bursting into tears again front of him.

   Severus stared at the closed door blinking slowly. He heard Wallace McGonagall clearing his throat behind him and Severus held out his hand.

"Spare me", he said. "I do not need advice from a painting".

And he, too, left the library, leaving Wallace McGonagall with a very rude word in the tip of his tongue. He sighed resignedly. Being in a library full of Muggle motionless portraits was a very boring place to be indeed.

Severus searched for Fiddler around the house to no success whatsoever. She seemed to have banished, and he was growing worried although he wouldn't admit it. She was utterly vulnerable in her condition… Not that she'd take it the right way if someone dared to mention it…

"Stupid", he hissed to himself.

He made a full account of Fiddler's outburst and shook his head ruefully thinking his act of idiocy was a mix of a bit of each of Fiddler's list of excuses. He really could not explain what had happened, but he had the nagging feeling he had just ruined his life.

Badly.

Severus Snape wasn't used to be harassed by beautiful women, and shamefully enough, it had gotten into his head. He had felt incredibly flattered by Briallan's constant attentions and even a little thrilled at the perspective of getting reacquainted with a long-forgotten past, a past he once had embraced willingly.

Years had been incredibly kind with Briallan, despite the circumstances, and the fact that she was Wynn in the flesh but not in the mind had besotted him terribly, shadowing Fiddler away… Just for a moment, but long enough.

"You fool", he told himself. "How much more do you think she will take from you?"

He remembered remorsefully the night he'd bruised her hand when she had tried to help him; how had he nearly strangled her when she first mentioned Lucas; the utterly unkind way he'd first taken her, and calling out Wynn's name on top of it; how had she spent the early stages of her pregnancy because she'd seen what he had thought of her…

And the worst part was he had actually _wanted_ to kiss Briallan, and he'd done it against his better judgment… but, setting all consequences aside, the truth was it hadn't been as magnificent as he thought it would be. Briallan had been more than responsive, and her body language signaled she was eager for more, and Merlin knew so he was. What could have happened if Fiddler hadn't walked on them, only Fate knew…

But still, it had felt… Different, not as besotting as expected. Something was missing, some sort of coziness that felt just right when it was Fiddler he had in his arms, her scent of fresh rain, the ironic glitter in her eyes and the way she looked at him, as if she couldn't believe her luck. She had told him very clearly, she had never believed someone would actually find her attractive, and he understood suddenly what she'd meant when she told him that was the best way to kill her; by kissing Briallan, he'd practically confirmed the lousy opinion she had of herself.

"What are you trying to do, Snape?" he asked out loud, angrily. "Wreck your life because it is easier for you to live among darkness and deceit?"

No, that was not it. Not entirely at least.  He wasn't used to emotional struggles, to share his life and personal space, but he most certainly didn't want to lose what he had with Fiddler. But maybe he'd just pushed his luck too far this time. He had hurt her badly in the past, but not like this. Somehow he feared this would be the final strand for her. She wouldn't forgive him so easily this time.

"Oh, Fiddler…" he said with a very unusual soft voice.

 He realised his distracted steps had taken him outside, and followed a pebbled path among the bushes. He stopped in his tracks as Fiddler surged before his eyes, her back turned to him, sitting on the grass, apparently writing something. She had her hair gathered high on her head, exposing the length of her neck, and Severus suddenly very much wanted to run his lips over the smooth-looking skin, to hold her and kiss her until their lips felt raw, but he set the thought aside as he knew she'd probably kick his groin if he came close to her.

He shifted a bit to get a better angle, and watched her wordlessly as she filled pages and pages with her curly writing.

Her diary.

His heart lurched at the endless waterfall of tears on her cheeks. Not a sound was heard, but Severus had never felt so much sadness around him, substantial enough to feel threatened by it.  His hand wandered to the pocket in which he had put the rings she'd returned to him and enclosed them in his fist.

If Briallan's attentions had infatuated him, Fiddler's silent and pained tears utterly overwhelmed him. No woman had ever cried for him. Not once. Not even his mother.

He wasn't a man to beg, but he couldn't lose this woman, no matter how much it cost his pride.

"Fiddler…" he whispered, but she didn't turn around. "Fiddler, please. I need to speak to you".

"I told you to leave me alone". She bit every word.

She got to her feet with difficulty and put her diary under her arm.

"Go and fetch Briallan", she spat. "I am sure she's waiting for you to finish what you started".

And waddled away.

She wasn't far when they both heard Ginny's urgent cry.

"Fiddler! Come quick! Something's wrong with Hermione!"

Fiddler's head shot up at the sound, in the exact same way Triskelion's did. An unfocused part of Severus' mind thought that she in fact had many corporal expressions that strongly resembled animals, and she enhanced them as if she was immensely proud of them. He watched her run towards the house, holding her bulging belly with one hand, her hair flowing behind her, free from the hairclip that had kept it gathered up. He followed her steps calmly, picking up the hair item, and walked through the glass door in time to see his wife crouching next to Granger, who appeared to be unconscious on the floor, next to one of the flowery chaise longues that adorned the room.

"What happened?" she asked, panting slightly.

"I don't know… we were just talking and her eyes suddenly rolled back in her head and she fell over… I couldn't wake her… I… Oh, Merlin…!", Ginny was growing hysterical by the second and Severus wondered wickedly if he should slap her. But that would give Potter the perfect excuse to use an Unforgivable on him, so he'd best leave it.

"Shut up, Ginny, really not helping", Fiddler said. "Ron, run to my room and get my case. Fred, George, Harry, help me to put her on the chaise. I am getting really numb here".

They did as told and Fiddler carried on with her examination, finding Hermione's pulse was all right, but her pupils were incredibly dilated. She told the kids to pile up the cushions and she put the girl's feet up, at the same time a very worried Ron returned, carrying her medical case and with Molly and Tonks on tow. Fiddler didn't exactly realise the time when the whole of the Order gathered in the room, but by then she had even performed a quick glycaemia test on Hermione and found it within normal levels. There didn't seem to be a reason for her to be unconscious, but she stubbornly remained that way.

"Well, I don't get it…", she muttered, and she held out her hand to peer at the girl's pupils again when a sudden movement startled the wits out of her. Hermione had grabbed her hand with incredibly strength, and no matter how hard she tried, Fiddler couldn't get away. Severus moved forward out of instinct to help her, but he found himself trapped as well in Hermione's other hand. Out of the corner of his mind he registered Briallan's entrance but he paid her no attention as his hand was going numb.

Hermione opened her eyes at that very moment, frighteningly empty and unblinking, and spoke with a hoarse, deep voice:

_"The life of the Unforgivable shall end with Birth._

_Born to the embrace of bloodred waters,_

_Engendered by the sinner who regained innocence,_

_Carried by the Moonwitch of the dark mane._

_Bliss to the Serpent and the Wolverine._

_Thus shall the Liquid shield His equal,_

_Hence shall her mane bond their births,_

_Await for the Summer Solstice,_

_A time of triumph for the light;_

_The waxing Moon shall guard their birth"._

Everybody went entirely still.

Hermione was still unconscious, but she was holding Severus' and Fiddler's hands together nonetheless.

The Serpent and the Wolverine indeed.

Fred and George always found the funny side of things, and they had taken it to themselves to tease Hermione to no end after the prophecy.

"Hail to the new Seer!", they yelled everytime they saw her. "Today she shall announce the twists of Fate and the mysterious ways of the Inner Eye…!"

She didn't find it amusing, and nor did Ron. He had detached himself a bit from her saying that he actually felt he was snogging Trelawney, and Hermione had smacked him so hard his cheek still burned. Harry and Ginny didn't find it amusing either, but for different reasons, though.

Dumbledore, of course, had been informed of the twist of events and he had even showed up in Elvenpath, looking worried and older than ever, gathering everyone but the kids and Fiddler away in a room to conspire about Merlin knew what, and he had finally left, advising Fiddler to take care of herself.

"Why didn't they let us in?" raged Harry.

"Oh, I bet Snape had something to do with it…", Ron said, and for once, Fiddler didn't stood up for him.

"I mean, all right, so they still look at us like children", Ginny said thoughtfully. "But Fiddler? I mean, she's in the prophecy and so are her babies! One would think she has the right to know what the heck are those manly morons planning…"

"I was with them, might I remind you", said Tonks.

"And? What did they say?"

"Can't tell".

"Screw you".

"Someone does that for me, thanks", Tonks said smugly. "But, honestly, you didn't miss anything big. We merely… um― analyzed the prophecy".

"What's there to analyze? I think what is says is pretty obvious", Ron said.

"Some parts, yes. Not the whole picture though".

"It's funny how Voldemort is always threatened by babies", Harry said. "Makes you think, doesn't it".

"Yeah…", Ron said distractedly. "It does".

"Oi, didn't you say something about Trelawney babbling about Fiddler once?", Hermione spoke suddenly, startling everybody as they'd forgotten she was there as well.

"Did I?"

"Yes… back at Hogwarts…  you said Trelawney had said an evil force was fogging her Inner Eye and that she could see the dark mane of the Moonwitch approaching… She then said the Fate wouldn't let her know if the Moonwitch was good or evil… But she did mention something about Birth links between the One born in Ostara and the One Born in Lughnassadh… She also said that those born from the Ocean would vanquish darkness".

"Blimey, I didn't remember… But that's right, she did say that… Who would have thought she meant anything by it?"

"I certainly didn't", Hermione said smugly. "But, given the circumstances… I guess you're the Moonwitch, Fiddler… When's your birthday?"

"March 21".

"The Vernal Equinox… And Harry was born in August Eve…", Hermione tapped her chin thoughtfully. "But how does that link you two?"

"No clue whatsoever", Fiddler said.

No one said a word for a while. Then Tonks spoke:

"Does anyone know when will the Summer Solstice be held this year?"

Of course, someone did.

"June 21", Hermione said.

"Will there be a waxing Moon?"

"Well, we could check the calendar…", Ron said and ran to the kitchen. He came back a bit later, with a frown.

"Yeah… Waxing Moon, starting a day before".

"What's so important about Waxing Moon?", asked Harry.

"The idea is that as the light of the Moon increases… _waxes_, sort of speaking, so does the energy for manifesting or bringing forth your desires", Hermione lectured them. "It is a time to create and bring into effect whatever you want to happen. It is an attracting energy that is Creative in Nature. The Waxing period is a time of attracting energy."

"Aaaaaah…!", Ron said. "Still don't get it, though".

Hermione rolled her eyes exasperatedly.

"There are many uses for this type of power or force. In the event that you were to do a spell to make something happen, this would be a more ideal time for it… and results will be far more tangible and of a positive nature than otherwise".

"Now you're speaking sense".

Tonks nodded thoughtfully.

"So the babies are supposed to be born that day, according to the prophecy", Tonks said.

"But that's stupid", Fiddler said. "I am not due until early August… I'd be around 34 weeks on June 21, they'll be premature and most certainly not helpful for this… thing".

"Well, that's something, but the prophecy is the prophecy", Ginny said.

"How do we know it's actually true?", Hermione asked.

"Um, girl… You made it!"

"Yeah, so? I have never been regarded as a Seer".

"Which is probably why Dumbledore found it so trustworthy".

Hermione snorted. She was about to say something else when the door sprang open and Briallan walked in. Fiddler regarded her with hatred-filled eyes, but didn't say a word.

"Hi", Briallan addressed Tonks, because she wasn't sure any of the others would answer her. "Is the meeting over already?"

"Yeah. Dumbledore just left".

"Ah. Um― Seen Severus around?"

Fiddler's hands curled into fists and her eyes beamed with rage. The gall of her, honestly!

She felt Hermione's soothing hand in her shoulder and that stopped her from getting up and ripping the former Dumb Blonde in two.

"No… He might have accompanied Albus back to Hogwarts for all I know. Fiddler, do you―?"

"No, I am afraid I do not", Fiddler finished dangerously.

"Oh. Well. It was worth the try", Briallan mumbled.

"I am sure it was".

Briallan didn't hold Fiddler's gaze. She retreated slowly and left, closing the door behind her.

"Bitch", Ginny said.

"Don't you insult animals", Hermione and Fiddler said in unison.

They laughed at their timing and similar thoughts, and Fiddler concluded, with a very nasty expression:

"Besides, she's worst than a bitch. At least, they get paid for it".

And with that, she got up from her chair and left the room as well.

**A/N.**

"Gloria victis" = Latin for Hail the Victorious

TBC, please R & R!!!!!

Thanx a lot to my kind beta Ian for his BRILLIANT thoughts!!!

Disclaimer: All characters and HP universe belong to J.K. Rowling, except for the ones you don't recognize. The plot as well is mine and solely mine!! No profit is being made!!!!


	35. Embrace of the Bloodred Waters

**Chapter 35**

**Embrace of the bloodred waters**

Severus woke abruptly form an utterly upsetting dream. His heart was drumming in is throat and he had the soft linen sheet coiled around his lower limbs. Still half asleep, he rolled to his side to reach for Fiddler, then he remembered he wasn't in their room. As he hadn't been since… _That _day.

 He lay on his back and sighed. He reluctantly admitted to himself he missed her, missed her wonderful hair spread on the mattress, the scent of her, her rounded belly pressed against him.

"It is your own fault you lost all that", he reminded himself out loud.

He sighed again and his eyes drifted shut. Blurred images from his nightmare came to his mind and he shivered. He vehemently hoped it wasn't a premonition, but ever since his magical binding with Fiddler he'd become more receptive to that kind of signals…

Severus couldn't remember the exact details, but the main fact remained that something had happened to the babies. Something dreadful. He remembered his strangled feeling of impotence, his struggle to remain sane as he regarded the blood, Fiddler's pain, white lights, screams, loud sounds, tension… and… death?

 His heart clenched.

After Hermione's prediction, it seemed the fate of the magical world now rested within the welfare of those two little beings growing inside the womb of the woman who was still his wife. Severus still wasn't sure what role would they play, but as the time grew nearer, he realised his intrinsic selfish nature was finding hard to stomach the idea of risking them for the sake of others.

_Again._

His musings were interrupted when he heard a muffled moan on the other side of the door. It sounded pained, and that made him get out of bed hastily and run to open the door, as his mouth parted to ask who was it and what did he or she want. But the words died on his lips when the sight before him finally sunk in his mind.

It was Fiddler.

She was grabbing the doorknob for support with one hand, the other wrapped convulsively around her belly, deathly pale, standing amid a large pool of blood. For the second time in their entire acquaintance, she was not wearing a scrub, but a white, knee-length gown that allowed Severus to see the blood running down her legs in thick dollops. The dim light coming from the hall only but enhanced the crudeness of the scene. Severus froze in shock. For half a second he thought he'd fallen asleep again and was having another nightmare, but deep down he knew he wasn't.  Fiddler hadn't spoke to him in weeks, but if there was something that could force her to break the Ice Law, that something were their children.

Something was very, very wrong.

"Fiddler—", he stammered. "What—what…"

"I think it's placental abruption", she answered laboriously but in a calm voice. "It's a premature detachment of the placenta… It's not supposed to… happen… until after the baby is born…"

"But… why… how—?"

"I… don't know. It might be my… My Half-breed nature… I don't know how… how genetics work in this case… But it doesn't matter know. We must—", she stifled a moan and her knees bent a little. "I didn't mean to… disturb you… But… I can't… I…" she closed her eyes as if willing herself to focus. "We must get to the hospital now… Or the babies… will die… and I will bleed to death".

Severus Snape had survived the Dark Lord, had endured torture and faced death not having so much as blinked. But Fiddler's matter-of-factly statement was beyond what he thought he could bear. This was no time for hysterics, though.

"You will _not_ die, nor will our children", he said repressively, trying to drill the thought in her head as he did with his students. "Come on, now, let us go".

"But… you can't… can't drive…" she wheezed and he noted she was shaking. He stepped forward and caught her in his arms as her knees gave up the effort of keeping her upright.

"I will Apparate us if I have to", he said.

He carried her into his room, her head resting on his shoulder, her hair swaying around them, both arms wrapped weakly around his neck. He paused long enough to grab his night robe and shoes. She was bleeding like a fountain and he was growing more concerned by the second. He drew out his wand instinctively but Fiddler's hand stopped him weakly. Then it dawned. Apparating a pregnant woman was strongly discouraged, and Fiddler was in sound enough danger as it was. Severus sighed and put his wand away. He stopped in front of the first door that crossed his way to the stairs and raised his fist to knock.

"Potter", he said to the closed door. "Wake Weasley up and put some shoes on. We have to get Fiddler to the hospital".

He heard some noises and then the door opened to let out  a very drowsy, messy-haired, and pajama-clad pair of teenagers.

"Wha—Oh, Bugger!", swore Ron before he could think better of it.

"Bugger indeed", conceded Severus. "Weasley, I need you to alert the others. Potter will be driving us to the hospital". He wasted no more time in words, and Ron nodded silently and left to wake people up. Appalled by the sight before him, Harry found himself eager to obey Snape's commands for the first time ever, and led the way downstairs taking the car keys from the wooden dog-shaped key hook that hung on the kitchen.

Molly Weasley caught up with them in the garage, carrying a large bag with some hastily packed items with her.

"Severus, I would like to come", she said softly, and Severus, relieved by her down-to-earth presence, nodded silently as Potter unlocked the car doors. He lay Fiddler on the back seat, covering her with his robe, and then sat besides her, lifting her head to rest it on his lap. Molly climbed up on the passenger's seat and Potter started the engine and headed for the gate. Severus smoothed Fiddler's hair away from her face and told her everything was going to be all right. He felt her nod against his lap, but her silent tears of pain had already soaked the fabric of his sleeping trousers. He held out a hand to touch her belly and he felt it harden under his palm. It wasn't the sporty movements of his children he'd become used to and missed so in the last few weeks, but more like a sudden tightening of the womb causing the skin covering it to raise and flutter. Fiddler had explained him the mechanics of delivery when she still talked to him… before the Incident, and if he'd understood correctly that was a contraction he was feeling.

But it couldn't be. It was too early. He splayed his fingers on her bulging midriff and this time there was no question about it. Fiddler's womb was contracting to expel their children out. She whimpered, curling over herself in a feeble attempt to allay the pain, and that confirmed it. She had told him contractions were painful. She even had demonstrated it by insufflating her 'sphyg', as she called her blood pressure measurement device, around his arm at eighty millimeters of mercury. She'd left it there for a whole minute, until his hand was numb and purple, and then she'd deflated it. She did that six times in ten minutes, and by the time she stopped his arm was pulsing in agony. It felt like a miniature _cruciatus_ curse.

"Now", she said, matter-of-factly, "That's the pressure with which the uterus contracts to push down the baby. So, imagine what I just did to you happening at that same interval of time in the whole of your midriff _and_ for about twelve to sixteen hours in a row, and you'll have a shrewd idea of the pain of delivery".

He had looked at her, horrified, and she had laughed softly, told him not to worry because she would probably have a caesarean section anyway and kissed him. Then she'd left the room to her habitual bathroom trip. Severus didn't dare ask what a caesarean section was. He really didn't want to know.

He then had tried to move his fingers, but he discovered he had lost the use of his arm for the rest of the afternoon, and ever since he had regarded Molly Weasley with somewhat awed respect.

After all, she'd been brave enough to go through _that_ seven times.

   Harry drove frantically, eating miles at top speed, reminding Severus of the time Fiddler had nearly killed them all when escaping from Malfoy. He smiled at the memory but stopped in midmotion when he heard her moan again.

"Severus?" she whispered. She didn't seem to have the energy to form the words. "I… love… love you… Will you… will you keep that… in mind?"

She was speaking so low that Severus had to bend his head to hear her. But once he made sense of what she'd just said, he felt the rush of adrenaline in his body. Fiddler wasn't a thespian woman. No, he had in his lap a highly perceptive young doctor who was saying goodbye to him because she sensed she was dying.

_Like Hell you are._

 "Don't", he told her fiercely. "Don't you _say_ that. You must hold on, Fiddler, do you hear me? _Hold on._ Don't you dare to give up".

But she didn't answer. She appeared to be unconscious.

_Do not go to pieces, Severus_, he told himself, and forced composure into his voice as he insisted:

"We're almost there, _álainn; _hold on. Potter, step on it".

 They were there in no time, thanks to Harry's driving skills, and Severus, leaving him to deal with the car, irrupted through the door that said Emergency, holding Fiddler close to him, with Molly on tow and leaving a track of blood behind them. A part of his brain wondered numbly how much blood could she have left. He glanced around in search of an aiding, responsible someone, when a familiar face came across him. It was Sonia the Dunderhead, but she did her good deed of the year by yelling:

"Oh, MY GOD! It's Doctor _Greene!_ Chuckie, quick, get a stretcher!"

The response that got was immediate and amazing. White-robed individuals in vivid scrubs ran towards them from all directions, and Fiddler was deposited in a rolling stretcher and pushed away by a whole lot of people, all of them talking at the same time. Molly and Severus followed them into a small cubicle, soundly ignoring the nurse that asked them to wait outside, please. A tall, redhead man with a stethoscope around his neck took the lead and raised his voice:

"Quiet, everyone! Get me two IV lines, Genie, quick; Jenny, Saline and Ringer, a thousand cc each, IV push… Diana, an oxygen mask, 5 liters per minute; John, get me the cardiotocograph, with two trasductors… Marie, call Blood Bank and get me three RBC packs and some PTS as well… Sonia, call Jürgens and tell him to meet me at the OR in five minutes… Cynthia, I will need a blood count, coagulation test, electrolytes and blood chemistry… Mariel… pass her 10 milligrams of butyl and 1 amp of ceftriaxone. Charlotte, tell me her vitals."

"BP 80/40, pulse 130, and RF 23. Give me a minute with the temperature, doctor Dennen".

"God, she's in shock. Jenny, add another Ringer and let them all at free flow. Now, Wendy…"

Severus and Molly listened to what he was saying but didn't understand a word; they both felt alien to that place and to the swirl of white coats and bamboozling orders, and they watched silently as the nurses fussed around Fiddler.

"Fiddler?" the readhead bent over her stretcher and touched her shoulder. She opened her eyes to look at him.

"Hi… Jeremy….", she replied with a weak smile. "I think… I think it's AP".

Severus saw the expression on Jeremy's face and blanched himself.

"Oh, Fiddler…", he heard him say. "I— How far along are you?"

"Thirty four weeks…"

"Damn it all! What happened?"

"Oh… You know… Book-like…", she said, and Severus couldn't help but smile at the irony in her voice, despite the circumstances. "A few cramps… searing pain… rush of blood… Hypertonia… Not… not _placenta previa_ because… it hurt… _hurts_ like Hell", she closed her eyes, as if the effort of keeping them open was wearing.

Jeremy lifted the thin sheet that covered her and nodded.

"I would agree. How much blood do you think you lost?"

"Oh… around… a thousand cc… Fifteen hundred, maybe… "

Severus looked at her, flustered. _Fifteen hundred milliliters?_ And she stated it so calmly? What was _wrong_ with doctors?

"Right. Well, my dear, you need a caesarean, and you need it now."

"I… know", Fiddler closed her eyes, exhausted, but opened them again as she clarified with an urgent voice: "Jeremy… they're… twins".

"Oh, _God_, Fiddler…"

Doctor Dennen, Severus mused, really looked appalled now.

 "Do you know…", he started. "If they share a placenta?"

Fiddler shook her head slowly.

"No… they're… dizygotic. Each one… with… a placenta of their own… Thank… God… for that".

Dennen seemed to share her feelings.

"Indeed. Apparently only one has torn, but we can't waste time. The internal bleeding will detach the other one sooner or later. Now, try to rest, my dear. You need your strength. I will take care of everything".

Fiddler nodded silently and closed her eyes. Only the slightest relaxation on her face told Severus she'd fallen asleep and he felt the need to reach out for her, but the nurses still fussing around her prevented him. Jeremy straightened up and raised his voice again:

"Oswald! I want everything ready in five minutes tops! Marie, get me that blood now. Jenny, go to OB/GYN and check who's on call, and get a neonatologist as well. Tell him we're delivering a set of thirty four weeks of gestational age twins whose mother presented AP, so he can get everything ready at the NICU. Quickly, we're going in _now!_ Orderly!!!!!!"

As they waited for the orderly, whatever that was, Jeremy turned to Severus and smiled.

"My apologies, sir, madam. You might have thought it was rude of me not to talk to you before, but this is a real emergency and I needed to act with haste".

Severus shrugged his shoulders as if saying it didn't matter, but he couldn't bring himself to speak. He was hypnotized by the sight of his wife on the stretcher, her naturally pale skin looking almost blue against the pasty sheets, her face half-concealed by a green oxygen mask, her black hair making a crude contrast amongst all that whiteness. She had needles inserted in both her arms, connected to transparent, thin hoses, and a whole lot of bottles emptying rapidly into them. A nurse came then to fasten a belt with two discs around her stomach, and she attached it to a big square machine that beeped loudly and showed three sets of mountains and valleys.  Jeremy caught Severus' glance and said:

"That's the cardiotocograph. This line here…", and he pointed at it. "Shows uterine activity. That's a contraction right there". Severus observed a peak on the line, "and these two others show the babies' heartbeat. 146 and 150 BPM, both doing fine". He smiled reassuringly and Severus thought maybe they taught doctors to develop that kind of smile, because he'd seen it in Fiddler's face as well. "I am doctor Jeremy Dennen", the redhead continued. "You are, I assume, Fiddler's husband?"

"I am", he said, hoarsely. He shook the hand Jeremy was offering him and added numbly: "Severus Snape".

"Madam?"

"Molly Weasley", Molly said, shaking his hand as well. "Just a friend".

"Well, Mr. Snape, Mrs. Weasley. Fiddler has a condition named _abruptio placentae. _This happens when the placenta separates from the uterus before the birth of the baby. During a normal labor and delivery, the baby is born first. Several minutes to 30 minutes later, the placenta separates from the wall of the uterus and is delivered. This sequence is necessary because the baby relies on the placenta to provide oxygen until he begins to breathe independently. Are you following me?"

Molly and Severus nodded.

"The cause of AP is unknown. However, a number of risk factors have been identified. These factors include multiple pregnancies, which is Fiddler's case, malformations of the uterus, malformations of the placenta, Injury to the abdomen, as it occurs in car accidents, and genetic abnormalities".

Severus swallowed hard. Fiddler had mentioned something about that… And she was right, no one knew for sure if a Banshee was prepared to carry a human child in her womb. For all his previous studies, Severus had thought they didn't even had a womb. But his wife had been born from one… and hadn't Dumbledore told him that her own mother had died giving birth to Fiddler? Had the same thing happened to her? He willed himself to stop thinking about it and focused on Jeremy's explanation instead:

"Placental abruption is risky for both the mother and the fetus. It is dangerous for the mother because of blood loss, loss of clotting ability, and oxygen deprivation to her organs, especially the kidneys and heart, and it is dangerous for the baby because of oxygen deprivation, too, since the mother's blood is the fetus' only source of oxygen. Because the abrupting placenta is attached to the umbilical cord, and the umbilical cord is an extension of the fetus' circulatory system, the fetus is also at risk of hemorrhaging. The fetus may die from these stresses, or may be born with damage due to oxygen deprivation. If the abruption occurs well before the baby was due to be delivered, early delivery may cause the baby to suffer complications of premature birth. But if we don't deliver those babies soon, Mr. Snape, their chances of survival will grow thinner. As I said before, it seems like only one placenta detached, but the internal bleeding will soon be enough to detach the other one. Do you understand the risks, Mr. Snape?"

Severus nodded yet a third time.

"Good. Then I will need your signature authorizing the procedure".

Severus did as asked, and then bent over the stretcher and held Fiddler to him, mindful of the lines and artifacts connected to her. He kissed her cold forehead and whispered the Three Words in public for the first time in his forty years of life:

"I love you, do you hear me?" and then, feeling he needed to make a masculine statement after his soppy declaration, he added warningly: "So don't you dare to die on me".

She opened her eyes with difficulty and brought her hand weakly to her forehead, in a mocking salute.

"Yes, sir…" She mumbled. "I love you too". And she closed her eyes again.

Severus let go of her and watched as the orderlies took her away. Jeremy patted his shoulder comfortingly and with his encouraging smile he promised:

"We'll take good care of her, Mr. Snape. I will let you know as soon as we have some news".

And then he walked after the stretcher.


	36. The Waxing Moon Shall Guard their Birth

Chapter 36 

**The waxing Moon shall guard their birth.**

Severus headed unsteadily to a chair and fell into it, his head in his hands. Molly sat beside him and offered him her silent support. Potter walked in at that very moment, and Severus looked up, surprised. He had forgotten about him.

"I just found a place to park", Harry said. "It's crowded around here. How's Fiddler?"

Severus breathed in deeply and braced himself to speak, but Molly guessed his distress and rescued him, informing Harry herself.

"They've taken her already?", Harry asked. "That was quick".

Severus glanced at the clock on the wall and he was astounded again when he learned it had only been ten minutes since their arrival. It had felt like a lot more. He leaned back against the wall and sighed heavily. His head was throbbing and he felt queasy. He looked down at himself and noticed his grey sleeping attire was drenched in Fiddler's tears and blood. He looked like the Bloody Baron. He felt Molly's hand on his arm and heard her say:

"I brought some fresh garments if you want to change, Severus. Right out from the drier machine".

He looked at her thankfully and took the bag from her hands. Trust Molly to think of that kind of details, he mused. He got to his feet and slipped into the first men's room that crossed his way. Once changed into a pair of black trousers and a black knitted jumper he felt a lot better. He threw his sleeping clothes away, after taking out Fiddler's rings from his night robe. He always carried them with him since she'd given them back to him, and he put them on a pocket absent-mindedly. He then splashed some water to his face before joining Potter and Molly in the waiting room.

"I brought Fiddler one of her scrubs and some slippers as well", Molly said, smiling. "And her toiletries".

"Thank you, Molly", Severus said formally.

"I am going to get some coffee", Harry said, and he added awkwardly: "Er— Prof—Severus… Thank you for your trust. I am sure she'll be fine, sir… She's too stubborn to die that easily".

The three of them chuckled softly at that, and Severus' spirit lifted slightly. Harry walked towards a coffee machine and got three cappuccinos that tasted like sugared warm water with only the slightest hint of coffee to justify the name. Severus drank it absently, thinking about the prophecy.

_The life of the Unforgivable shall end with Birth._

_Born to the embrace of bloodred waters,_

_Engendered by the sinner who regained innocence,_

_Carried by the Moonwitch of the dark mane._

_Bliss to the Serpent and the Wolverine._

_Thus shall the Liquid shield His equal,_

_Hence shall her mane bond their births,_

_Await for the Summer Solstice,_

_A time of triumph for the light;_

_The waxing Moon shall guard their birth._

…Bloodred waters… Innocent sinner… carried by the dark haired Moonwitch…

He straightened his spine abruptly.

"Severus?", Molly inquired.

"I think I have deciphered the prophecy", Severus answered hastily. "What happened to Fiddler is part of it. _Born to bloodred waters_, Molly. Under the eye of the waxing Moon… On Midsummer Day. _Today._ It had to happen for them to be born in the date they were predestined to".

Molly and Harry looked at him intently.

"But that's… That's awful", Harry said, thunderstruck.

_Indeed?_ Severus thought bitterly. But he didn't feel like snap at Potter for his obvious remark, so he just finished his previous thought instead:

"And the Liquid… I think it might be Fiddler's amniotic fluid".

"That's going to shield _Harry?",_ Molly wailed, disbelieving.

"I am not sure how", Severus conceded. "But it is the only Liquid that comes to my mind".

"It makes sense", Harry said. "But how do we know how much do we need? Better yet, how do we let Fiddler know we need it?"

Severus closed his eyes and concentrated hard, trying to form an image in his head, one that Fiddler could sense and understand. He remained silent for a while; focused on the hues of color and the shapes he was creating, praying that Fiddler would get them.

  They waited quietly for what it seemed a long time, silence only broken when Harry said:

"You know, prof—Severus, you should get her some flowers".

Severus eyed him with a raised brow and replied:

"Is three o'clock in the morning, Potter. Unless you are suggesting I should sprout them, I am afraid flowers will have to wait for a more appropriate time".

Harry blushed slightly, but he was saved the trouble of answering because it was then when they saw the figure of Dr. Jeremy Dennen approaching them.

He was smiling widely.

"Fiddler is perfectly fine!" he announced happily. "Mind you, she even woke up when we were about to incise her uterus and asked me to bottle up some amniotic fluid! That was a weird request, but then again, Fiddler's always been an odd character, so I did as told".

Molly, Harry and Severus looked at each other and then grinned. Molly beat Severus to the question:

"And the babies?" she asked.

"Oh, they're doing wonderfully! Congratulations, Mr. Snape, You're the proud father of two incredibly loud wailing devices!" they all laughed freely now, tension forgotten. "Honest, I've never seen two premature infants with that kind of lungs before. Taken after the mother, I daresay!" more chuckles. "They didn't even need a tube or anything, they're breathing all on their own. You have a daughter and a son, Mr. Snape, and they will remain at the NICU for surveillance, but you will be allowed short visit periods".

Severus nodded and thanked Jeremy.

"It was my pleasure", he replied. "Now, Fiddler is in room 513. You may go and see her now. And, if you'll excuse me, I am afraid I must go. Lots of work to do".

"Go right ahead", Severus said. "And thank you again".

"You're welcome. Congratulations!" and, with one last smile, he walked away.

Allowing Severus to run and see his wife.

        He entered the room quietly, noticing that Molly and Harry had discreetly decided not to come with him. He supposed they were calling Elvenpath and spreading the news.

Fiddler was in bed, still connected to tubes and monitors, and there was a bag of blood dripping slowly into her vein. Severus approached the bed and sat on the chair beside it. She seemed to be asleep, but he still reached for her hand and sheathed it in both his own, glancing at her midriff somewhat longily. He had grown attached to her rounded form. He rubbed her hand gently, and noticed someone had gathered her hair in a thick braid. She didn't look as pale as the last time he'd seen her, but she had dark smudges around her eyes and her arm felt light like a feather to him.

Fiddler opened her eyes slowly and smiled when she saw her husband.

"Hey", she murmured.

"Hello. How are you?"

"Tired…"

Severus brought her hand to his lips.

"I am told I was supposed to get you flowers", he said in his best Snape-ish tone. "But I am afraid I have neglected to get them".

She laughed faintly.

"Don't worry… I am allergic", she replied. "There are your bloodred waters", she pointed her chin to the bedside table where a bottle containing a rosy liquid rested. "Your thoughts were strong enough to wake me… I startled the wits out of everybody".

"Yes, Dr. Dennen told me", Severus said. "He has also informed me that our children seem to have inherited your unique voice".

They both chuckled this time and he tightened his grip on her hand, thinking of how close he'd been of never hearing her laughter again. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily. If he could fall asleep right now, with her hand in his…

"You look exhausted", Fiddler said, eyeing him critically. "Did you sleep?"

"Not a bit", he said, and he tried to look smug… but failed. "I was busy worrying about the three of you".

She smacked his cheek softly and moved away on the bed.

"Come on", she said, holding out her arms to him. "The bed's big enough for the both of us. Medical doctor's privilege I am sure." She smiled lightly and took a deep breath. It seemed like she was gathering up the nerve to say something else. "Have a nap. That is... if… if you want."

Severus didn't need to be asked twice. He kicked off his shoes and slipped into the sheets beside Fiddler. He wrapped his arms around her carefully, as she settled her head on his chest and embraced him as well.

"Do you forgive me?" he asked, his voice raw.

He felt her nod against his chest.

"I forgive you… But please, don't do it again".

"I will not", he promised fiercely. "I love you, Fiddler. I am sorry".

She looked up at him and kissed his chin.

"I love you too".

He reached for his pocket and took out the rings.

"I think these belong to you", he said, not daring to look at her even as he slid them on her left ring finger. He felt her lips on his neck, just above the turtleneck of his sweater, and shivered. He held her tightly and kissed her forehead.

Not five minutes had passed when they fell asleep.

  Severus opened his eyes, thinking idly that he should get out of bed before someone walked in and saw them. He looked at the clock and realised it was nearly nine o'clock. He then regarded his wife, sound asleep in his arms and kissed her forehead.

The door opened in that very same minute, catching Severus off-guard, and he could not hide his awkwardness as a redhead nurse walked in pushing a wheelchair and stopped dead at the sight of them.

"Um— Good morning", she said. "I came for… Doctor Greene".

"Good morning", Severus replied, stiffly. "As you can see, though, she is asleep".

He felt a soothing hand on his chest and Fiddler's hoarse voice say:

"I'm up, I'm up… Hiya, Cynthia".

"Hello, Doctor Greene. Congratulations! I thought you'd like to see the babies…"

"Yes, thank you".

Fiddler moved laboriously to leave the bed, and her face frowned in pain. Severus, then, solved matters by jumping out of bed and gathering her in his arms to put her on the wheelchair. He followed them down the halls, pushing around the tripod with Fiddler's IV fluids and blood bags, until they reached a glass door that said NICU. He looked down at Fiddler, inquiringly.

"Neonatal Intensive Care Unit", she translated.

The nurse gave them two surgical coats and caps, and mouth coverers as well.

"It's an sterile area", Fiddler informed Severus when he surveyed the sterile stuff distastefully.

Cynthia opened the door and pushed Fiddler's wheelchair inside. Severus followed them into a wide room full of plastic boxes containing babies connected to an assorted collection of hoses, wires, bottles and monitors. The room was bright-lighted and nurses and doctors could be seen roaming around the boxes, peering at charts and examining babies all over. Cynthia stopped in front of two boxes right in the middle of the NICU and Severus Snape regarded his children for the very first time.

He was a Slytherin, and hence, naturally biased; he surveyed the rest of the boxes and he couldn't honestly find another baby that could be compared to his own, no matter how small and wrinkled.

His chest expanded proudly and he sought for Fiddler's hand. She circled his waist with her other arm and leaned her head on his hip.

"Couldn't we put them in the same incubator?" she asked.

"I— guess…", one of the nurses said, looking at Fiddler as if wondering how dared she to give out suggestions.

"It has been demonstrated that premature twins that share incubators have a better outcome than those that do not", it was undoubtedly Doctor Greene talking.

The nurse frowned and then her expression cleared.

"Oh, my God! Doctor Greene! I am sorry, I didn't—"

"That's OK, Carla, I must look dreadful", Fiddler smiled.

"Are they yours?", Carla asked.

"Yes", Fiddler answered with undeniable pride, and then she gestured at Severus. "They're ours. Carla, meet my husband, Severus Snape".

Sheila eyed the tall, pale, dark haired and menacing man standing next to Fiddler and smiled graciously as they shook hands.

"My pleasure. Carla Cork's the name. I'll see that they are put in the same incubator, Doctor Greene".

"I would like to feed them", Fiddler said, and Severus looked at her rather astonished without knowing why.

He watched Fiddler open the nearer 'incubator' with expert movements and took out the tiny bundle holding its head tenderly.

"That's the boy", Carla said. "He was born first".

A beautiful smile lit Fiddler's face. She kissed her son's head softly and whispered:

"Hello, precious… I'm your mommy…"

Severus saw a tear rolling down her cheek as he bent to get a better glimpse of the baby.

His son.

His heart ached with a rather violent emotion and he kissed Fiddler out of instinct. He couldn't believe he had been stupid enough to risk losing what he had before him for the sake of lust. He smiled at Fiddler when she looked at him, astounded, smiling through her tears, and they both looked at their child who was wailing loudly in protest at the sudden lost of artificial warmth, swaying his little fists uncoordinatedly. He had but the slightest dusting of black hair, taken after both his parents and his frowned face revealed he had also a strong temper indeed. He had yellow eyes like the sun, shining and unwavering, surrounded by thick dark lashes.

Fiddler and Severus were so enthralled observing their son they didn't notice when Carla approached them holding the other baby.

"Here's the girl", she said softly, and Fiddler handed the baby boy to Severus so she could hold her.

Severus took hold of their child awkwardly, listening to Fiddler and watching his head indeed, and as he looked at their daughter his jaw dropped, unable to believe she was a living creature.

She was minuscule, even smaller than the boy, and she was as pale-skinned as Fiddler and himself. She barely had hair, but the delicate wisps that covered her little head were of the same golden red as Wallace McGonagall's library portrait.

"She looks like an angel…" Fiddler murmured ecstatic.

Their angelical daughter extended a little hand and gave her mother an angelical and surprisingly strong tug at her hair. She then issued an ear-splitting scream. Her screeching also resembled a very out of tune violin.

"Ow! Nevermind. Hello, screamer… It's your mother you nearly scalped here!" Fiddler said, kissing the graceful red head. The baby girl instantly calmed and opened her eyes to look at her mother. They were a little blurred, unlike her brother's, but they showed an undeniable tendency to Fiddler's greenish blue.

"Congratulations, Fiddler", Carla said. "They're gorgeous".

Fiddler thanked her and Carla gave Severus a chair and retreated discreetly, leaving the new parents alone. Severus sat next to Fiddler holding the baby boy as she fed the girl, his marveled gaze wandering from one baby to the other and to his wife's face.

Their son thumped him delicately on his chest with his foot and he looked at him.

He thought of Lucas, he couldn't help it, and apparently Fiddler sensed it because she raised her eyes from their nursing daughter and fixed them on him.

"Severus", she said, softly. "Do you want to name him Lucas?"

Severus looked at Fiddler, feeling his heart go out to her. He had never even mentioned the possibility, fearing that it would upset her, but she had offered it willingly, without a trace of other feeling than love and understanding. He mused for a while and finally answered:

"No."

She didn't ask why not. Severus knew she had no need. She merely smiled and continued.

"How then?"

Severus looked at their son's dark mane and his mouth opened of its own volition, not knowing what he'd say:

"Douglas", was what came out.

Fiddler smiled again.

"Welsh for Dark Stranger. Fitting enough".

"I knew you'd agree. And what about the Screamer? Will she be Fiddler the Second?"

They both laughed looking at the redhead baby clinging to her mother's hospital coat as she fed.

"Oh, I was thinking we'd follow old Folk Tradition of naming banshees after a noteworthy feature… I think Rubria would suit her perfectly".

"Latin for Red. Suiting indeed".

"Glad you like it. Right… Hand Douglas over, love. I think Rubria's done here".

She was right, as Rubria was dozing off in her mother's arms. Severus and Fiddler exchanged babies and as Douglas fed, Severus had the chance to examine their little girl, marveling at the perfection of her tiny body, her red lips, and her pale skin crisscrossed by purple delicate veins, touching her slender fingers as if fearing they'd break.

"You could try to burp her", Fiddler said, holding Douglas in the crook of her arm as he suckled at her nipple.

"To _what_ her?"

"Burp her… Carla? Could you get my husband a towel, please? Thank you. Now. Put the towel to your shoulder and hold Rubria to it. Good. Now, pat her back, gently, but firmly until she burps".

"Ah". He did as told and nearly tumbled Rubria to the floor when she issued the most incredibly loud belch Severus had ever heard.

Fiddler laughed at his surprise and nodded.

"You did it quite all right", she approved.

Unbelievably, he actually felt proud of it. He also burped Douglas, who turned out to be as noisy as his sister, and soon enough they had to leave the NICU, reluctantly all right, but with the promise they'd be able to return in three hours so Fiddler could feed the twins.


	37. The Fiddler on the Green

Chapter 37 

**Fiddler on the Green**

Severus and Fiddler visited their children at the NICU eight times a day so Fiddler could feed them, until she was discharged, and then they had to wait two long weeks until the twins were allowed to go home.

Molly was waiting for them when they finally arrived, with the house beautifully decorated and a substantial meal for the undernourished parents. The females automatically fluttered around the babies, and even Harry and Ron seemed oddly moved by their presence. Of course, the prophecy could have been the cause of that, Severus mused.

Or not.

Fred and George issued their approval once they stated neither Douglas nor Rubria had Severus' nose and he heard either of them say:

"Who would have thought the Greasy Git could father such gorgeous children?"

But surprisingly, the implied insult did not annoy Severus.

Triskelion had adopted Douglas and Rubria as his own puppies and he threatened to rip the head off anyone who dared to get near them without his approval, barking madly to alert Fiddler in the process; Briallan, on the other hand, had been nowhere to bee seen since Fiddler had returned from the hospital, and she couldn't help to feel viciously proud for it, until Moody told them she had returned to Voldemort's side as a spy for the Order, alleging she had been magically controlled by the treacherous Banshee and lured out of her Master's protective wings.

"She does have a sense of the dramatic", Fiddler said, and she couldn't keep the sarcasm out of her voice. "But, if she's useful… It's all for the better".

Dumbledore and McGonagall surprised them by dropping by, and Minerva's eyes filled with tears when she looked at Rubria and realised she was Wallace's face, hair and eyes. Both elder wizards performed the children's Blessing and then they turned their attention to more pressing issues concerning Voldemort and the Prophecy.

"Well, we have the Bloodred waters", Fiddler said, whilst feeding Rubria without a trace of embarrassment.

Hermione was holding a very giggly Douglas; previous permission from his imposing father obtained, much to Fred and George's relief, as they'd nearly died on the spot when they took in the sight of Severus Snape actually rocking the child in his arms. Fiddler was leading her husband by the hand through the process of child upbringing, and by all means he was taking advantage of it with all the cunning of his Slytherin mind.

"I think Douglas and Rubria have fulfilled their part on the Prophecy", Dumbledore agreed.

"So now we have to work out the rest", Arthur said.

"Well, the dark mane and the birth bond… Harry and I are linked by birth, is it, Albus? Right, so the mane… Would mean the recently handcrafted wands, wouldn't it?" Fiddler said much to everyone else's astonishment, as if no one else had thought about it. "Yes, think of it, my hair is in those wands, so Harry wouldn't use Voldemort's wand's brother to fight him…"

"It could be that, of course", Hermione said, and she blushed, apparently still embarrassed at the fact that she'd made the prophecy.

"And how do bloodred waters shield Harry?" Molly asked.

There was nothing but silence for a while. Fiddler made a gesture as if she'd had an idea, but she didn't say a word. She changed Rubria from one breast to the other under the baby comforter, and shot a quick vigilant glance at Douglas, still giggling happily on Hermione's lap.

"He's OK, don't worry", she said.

Fiddler smiled at her and then Severus observed.

"You were going to say something, _álainn_".

She still found it back-tingling, but ever since the twins had been born Severus seem to find easier to use endearments and actually display some of his deeply hidden affection in public.

"I— It was just a thought that came to mind, but I don't think—"

"Go on".

"Well… Ever read The Iliad?" she watched Severus and Dumbledore nod. But they were the only ones. "Achilles was the son of Thetis and Peleus, and the bravest hero in the Trojan war, according to Greek mythology", Fiddler explained then. "When Achilles was born, his mother, Thetis, tried to make him immortal by dipping him in the river Styx. As she immersed him, she held him by one heel and forgot to dip him a second time so the heel she held could get wet too. Therefore, the place where she held him remained untouched by the magic water of the Styx and that part stayed mortal or vulnerable. "Eventually, it became his death as in Trojan War, Paris discharged at him a poisoned arrow, which, guided by Apollo, fatally wounded him in the heel, his only vulnerable spot."

"If you're suggesting I should bathe in amniotic fluid", Harry said with a rather nauseated look in his face, "and I am praying that you aren't, I beg you to make sure you won't leave dry spots".

They laughed nervously and Dumbledore added:

"Well, that is certainly a thought, Fiddler…"

"I would have thought it would be more like adding it to the potion we brewed…" Ginny said.

"I won't _DRINK_ that!"

"Always the stubborn, are you not, Potter?" Severus said, with no real viciousness in his voice.

"But that's exactly what we'll do", Dumbledore said, merrily. "After all, we _can't_ ignore the Prophecy, now, can't we?"

McGonagall sighed.

"But—But—" Harry blurted out, still nauseated at the very thought. "I thought the potion was ready to be used, you said it yourself, sir, it—"

"That was before the Prophecy, Harry", said Hermione, blushing.

"Oh, remind me to thank you later", he growled, moodily.

They broke in nervous laughter and Fiddler added, evenly:

"Be sensible, Harry… I don't think it'll taste any worst than it already does… And like I said before, we can't have you facing Voldemort plugged to a dialysis machine!"

Ron snorted with laughter.

"That would be a good joke… It might give Voldemort a stroke and do him in for us!"

"I wouldn't rely on that, Weasley", said Snape repressively. Douglas cried out as if supporting his father's words.

"Oh, _fine, _I'll _drink_ it", Harry gave in. "The big question now is… _When _will I drink it?"

It turned out that Harry didn't have to wait that long to know the answer.

Word had reached Dumbledore of an organized Death Eater attack to the students-free Hogwarts, in hopes of breaking in to get hold of the famous weapon that was currently, to put it in Lord Voldemort's words, under Dumbledore's crooked nose. A course of action was taken immediately and the full Order of the Phoenix was hurriedly gathered in Elvenpath so Moody could start his really harsh training sessions.

"The bloke's gonna kill us", Ron complained one time, after spending the last half hour suffering the after effects of a Bat-Bogey Hex he'd failed to block.

But no one really listened to him because, for once, they fully agreed with Moody and his Constant Vigilance Motto.

Severus had long since given up convincing Fiddler to stay safely behind and, as Molly had kindly offered to take care of Rubria and Douglas, Severus had then devoted his energies to teach her how to Apparate and how to cast – and deflect – most curses using her wand, which she wasn't too familiar with just yet. He had also taken her to Gringotts to update his last Will and Testament, after holding back the subject for almost a week, fearing it will upset her; after all, one didn't just approach his wife of four months who had recently become a mother to tell her he needed to get things settled in case he died. But sometimes it was easy to forget she was a half-breed and a banshee indeed; she had nodded, saying it was the most sensible thing to do, and that she might as well do her own will; she'd wondered if there would be a problem since she wasn't properly registered as a Witch, and she suggested they'd take the twins along so people at the Ministry could take notice of their existence.

"You'll give them quite a shake, love", she finished. "They haven't seen you in a year and all of the sudden you'll turn up married and with two children".

She laughed at the very image and then turned to shove a pacifier into Rubria's mouth, to stop her from tearing the walls down with her Banshee-ish wails.

So they had gone. And it was then, and only then when Fiddler found out the full extent and actual amount of her husband's wealth, and it amused her to no end.

"Well, now I am a fortune hunter as well!" she exclaimed when they left Gringotts, after signing their wills together. Severus had scowled at her words, as if he wasn't pleased, so she retreated. "Seriously, why didn't you tell me?"

"I thought it unimportant".

She quieted for a bit and then said:

"You're right. It is."

Severus smiled, inwardly relieved, and listened to her add:

"But… It makes me wonder why on Earth do you teach at Hogwarts!"

"I was undercover, _álainn._ Besides, it wasn't always like that… The name of Snape still carries respect among Purebloods but we weren't wealthy. We were an old family in fading decadence…"

"And then Malfoy adopted you".

Severus turned swiftly towards her.

"How— How—?" he spluttered.

"Well, it's only obvious, love", Fiddler said swiftly. "You were some sort of poor cousin to him, as I understand all pureblood families are interrelated. So Malfoy took you under his wing, protected you and maybe even took it to himself to rescue a pureblood family from social oblivion. After all, he's always making donations to various causes, and there's no way in hell you'll convince me he does it out of the goodness of his heart. He does it because he wants something in return… And in your case, it was your potion skills and freedom, wasn't it? So that's why you'd always favor Draco and refused to hear a single word against him or his father… Harry told me your reaction when he named Lucius as one of the Death Eaters that gathered when Voldemort returned."

"You're dangerous, sometimes".

"Oh, that has nothing to do with me being a Banshee, love… It's simply putting two and two together", she said with a bright smile.

Severus shivered all the same. It was unnerving, no matter what she said. Or maybe he was just not used to have someone think that much about him.

         Finally, one night, a tawny owl soared through a window into Elvenpath's sitting room, and delivered a parchment containing only two words:

It's time.

Everyone displayed then an overwhelming amount of activity, following a carefully rehearsed plan. Fiddler, proving she was a brilliant student, was one of the first ones Apparating outside Hogwarts grounds, dressed in black from head to toe, wearing heavy Doc Marten boots, with her wand at the ready and a fiery look in her eyes. She was soon followed by Harry, Remus, Tonks and Severus himself; Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Fred and George caught up with them soon enough, whilst Arthur and Moody were the last ones, the old Auror carrying the potion in his hip flask.

"Drink it now, laddie", he advised Harry. "I don't reckon you'll have time later on".

Harry did as told and they all moved tightly packed and with their wands pointing forward towards Hogwarts' front gate. When they reached the pebbled road, Moody put a Silencing charm to his wooden leg so it wouldn't clunk.

They never knew where did the jet of light come from, but quite suddenly the darkened night was lit with spells going back and forth, and the battle began before they'd even set foot inside Hogwarts. It came a time when Severus didn't know what he was doing anymore; he kept cursing, Stunning and Shielding himself, but he did not know whether he was hitting friend of foe as there were too many of them shooting at each other. Dimly, he heard Moody shrieking _"We've been ambushed, we've been ambushed!"_ and Tonks' strangled _"Shut up, Mad-Eye!" _before a Stunning charm hit her, tumbling her to the ground.

  Severus' eyes searched frantically around for Fiddler, and he found her soon enough, brandishing her wand in a pose oddly reminiscent of a fencing champion, and he saw something else, something Fiddler didn't.

"FIDDLER!" he roared, but it was too late, the red flash of light had already hit her on her left side and she fell to the grass with a pained exclamation. Severus tried to run to her, but he was hit himself on the back by a Stunning charm, and to top it all, silvery ropes appeared out of thin air, binding him by ankles and wrists and making him fall forward, hitting his overlarge nose on the grass, no trace of dignity left.

"Don't move, you despicable traitor", he heard Malfoy's drawling voice behind him.

Severus couldn't, not with the charm and the ropes anyway, but nothing prevented his eyes from bulge wildly as he took in the sight of Fiddler lying unconscious (he hoped), on the green grass.

"Fiddler…", he hissed even though his body didn't respond to his brain, ordering it to move. "Fiddler…"

And, out of the blue, the sound of guitars filled the air and a deep, hoarse male voice began to sing.

_Sad voices, they're calling,_

_Our precious girl, she can't be gone._

_How bitter this morning, when Daddy's darling_

_Went out and started her day._

Severus looked around madly, and he noticed he was not the only one searching for the source of that voice. Disconnected thoughts flashed in his mind, her remembered Dumbledore telling him his Banshee wife would find an equilibrium between both her Dark and White nature… He saw them all brewing the potion meant to shield Harry, he recalled Hermione making the Prophecy, he saw the words written in a creamy parchment _"it's time", _and he remembered the previous night, lying in their bed with Fiddler in his arms, wondering, as he'd done for over a month, if that would be the last night they'd be together…

_Wasn't there a dream, last night?_

_Like a spring never ending,_

_Still the water runs clear through my mind,_

_On the field I can see a fiddler;_

_The Fiddler on the Green,_

_And a sad boy…_

_'I took him too early,_

_Would you mind if I take you?'_

And he knew that voice was addressing to him.

The Fiddler on the Green…

And the taken Sad Boy.

Lucas.

And would he mind if the fiddler took his wife?

_The sun seemed bright,_

_The air was clear._

_A trick of light turned red into green,_

_She saw the light;_

_Her face was pale,_

_Her body smashed,_

_Her beauty's gone…_

"NOOOO!" he roared.

_'Isn't that a shame?' the Reaper said,_

_'He is quite alone here, and still waiting for you'._

_'Oh, I really did fail for the first time?' spoke the Fiddler,_

_Poor old Fiddler…_

_The Fiddler on the Green…_

_It would be nice…_

_Take my hand…_

_Just hold my hand, I'll take you there,_

_Your pain will go away…_

The voice was wailing now in a very Banshee-ish way, and Severus, out of the corner of his eye, saw Malfoy approaching his fallen wife.

It happened in the blink of an eye; Fiddler lacked the physical strength, but she had the anatomical knowledge; she placed the heel of her Doc Marten boot to an Unforgivable place and Malfoy fell to his knees helplessly, bent over himself. Fiddler kicked him again in the base of his skull and the Death Eater tumbled to the ground.

"You owed me, Malfoy", she hissed, struggling to stand up, but she only managed to sit up.

"Filthy… Half-Breed…"

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

Severus looked at her, transfixed. With no mercy, Fiddler had just annihilated his last living pureblood cousin…

Not that he really cared.

The mayhem would have probably carried on forever, but eventually, Voldemort made his dramatic appearance, escorted by the Lestranges, Dolohov and a girl who looked suspiciously like Briallan, all of them with their wands in the air casting a golden magical dome to protect their master.

The battle seemed to stop for a while, all eyes fixed on Voldemort and his escort. Severus wondered where the hell was Potter… And now that he thought of it, Dumbledore.

"Kill her", hissed Lord Voldemort, pointing at Fiddler.

"Yes, My Lord", it _was_ Briallan who answered his command, walking towards Fiddler and holding out her wand.

_"I won't kill you",_ Fiddler heard Briallan's voice in her head. _"But I'll have to hurt you or my cover will be blown…"_

_"Diffindo!"_ Briallan shrieked for all to hear, and Fiddler's hand went to clutch her left side, which was bleeding profusely. She fell to the grass again, but her pride told her she was _not_ going to lay on her front side and tried to get up.

_Oh, the blasted bitch,_ she thought bitterly, as she kneeled laboriously on the grass_. Diffindo, what's wrong with her, oh, _GOD_ IT _HURTS_, I am bleeding like a pig here, I—_

"That's right", hissed Voldemort, noticing Fiddler on her knees next to Malfoy's dead body. "Kneel before Lord Voldemort, Banshee".

The Death Eaters snickered; apparently oblivious to the fact that said Banshee had just killed one of their members.

"Now that you have prostrated yourself before me", continued the Dark Lord, "I shall take what I need from you… finish her off her, Briallan, and retrieve her blood".

"Yes, My Lord", Briallan said, but she seemed nonplussed.

Severus raised his head and his gaze met Fiddler's for a moment, in understanding. They both knew Briallan was expected to say the curse out loud.

_What do I do?_ Briallan's eyes seemed to ask.

_Tease him_, Fiddler formed the answer in her mind, and sent it to Briallan, hoping she'd understand. Briallan's eyes widened.

_But that would mean torture!_

Fiddler shrugged.

_So be it._

Briallan smiled slowly and turned to face Voldemort.

"My Lord", she said. "I was wondering… If I could ask it of you…. Would you allow me to play with my pray?"

Lord Voldemort actually chuckled.

"My dear, cruel Briallan Ludlow… So very worthy of the name you carry… So be it".

_Yeah, yeah, take the credit, bitch,_ Fiddler thought, unable to help it. _It was _my _idea!_

_Sorry!_

_Damn, she heard me…_

Severus was listening as well, and he couldn't help to be amused, despite the circumstances; but all glee flew from his soul as he watched Briallan turning back to Fiddler, still on her knees on the damp grass.

_I am sorry._

_"Crucio!"_

Fiddler fell forward, twitching in agony, and Severus cringed. She had writhed like that once before… in his arms…

When the Evil within her had held hard…

Briallan only lifted the curse when she made sure Fiddler was unconscious, and she got close to her to collect some of the blood still pouring from her side in a small crystal flask. She took her pulse, and, as she felt her quick, erratic beats, she said:

"She's dead, My Lord. She couldn't even stand a little torture…"

And not even the contemptuous laughter of the Dark Lord and his minions could mask Severus' desperate roar.

"You have betrayed me, Severus", said Voldemort then, turning to him, white faced, red eyed, mindless to his pain… or perhaps rejoicing in it… "You have turned your back to your Blood, to your Master…"

But Severus wasn't listening. The sense of _dejà vu _that hit him was so powerful that he nearly blacked out as well.

_Now _he'd understood the dream.

A wolf howled from afar and Severus heard a voice inside his head.

"The Banshee has chosen one of us to become her heiress… The other one shall perish, for her blood will bring life to the new Banshee…"

The wolf howled again, closer this time.

 Nyx? Severus thought incoherently.

Not Nyx, my boy, answered Dumbledore's voice. Wulfric, the Wolf.

Of course.

Severus raised his head and saw the wolf running and jolting around the hills and valleys, approaching threateningly with someone on its back. He sensed someone (probably Macnair, but he couldn't be sure), following the direction of his gaze, so he quickly directed it at the Death Eaters, who had finally come out from their reverie and were closing around what it seemed like Hermione, Ginny and Tonks, who were having a rough time holding them back. Moody had been deprived of his wooden leg and was being carried out of danger by very disheveled-looking Weasley twins, and Remus' apparently broken leg was being patched up by Arthur. Finally, Severus fixed his eyes on Fiddler, sprawled on the green grass, the pool of blood coming from her side steadily increasing…

And then Wulfric and Harry appeared out of nowhere, murder shining in both pairs of eyes, Harry's wand aiming resolutely at Voldemort.

"Avada Kedavra!", he yelled, but the magical dome Voldemort was in deflected the curse. "Reducto! Diffindo!" Harry was bawling. "Oh, come on!"

Fiddler stirred then, and to Severus' amazement, she began to crawl her way towards Voldemort, who had his back turned to her and took no notice.

Nor did, apparently, his minions.

She moved agonizingly slowly, but finally she was but inches away from the hem of his robes, and it was then when Severus realized she had got past the dome. And then he heard her voice in his head: Make a diversion. Leave the rest to us.

So he did.

He put up a frantic struggle to rid himself of the magical ropes, and five or six Death Eaters ran towards him to Stun him again. Voldemort laughed.

"Surrender, old servant, you cannot vanquish me! Is this what you bring before me? A beast and a boy? Look, at my so-called downfall, not being able to pass my protection! Where's your crooked-nosed crackpot? That fool old Muggle-lover? Will he save the day now? Where's your mighty Half-Breed now, if not lying on the ground before me, life trickling away from her in an endless stream?"

Boy, he loves listening to himself, this one!

Severus heard Fiddler's comment in his head and laughed helplessly. Voldemort quieted abruptly and looked down at Severus. He looked quite affronted.

"CRUCIO!" the Dark Lord yelled, and it was at that precise moment when Fiddler got to her feet and yanked Voldemort's wand from his hand. Severus stopped twitching in pain in time to hear a deathly, high-pitched voice, nothing like Fiddler's usual tone.

"Just so you know, Banshees do not kneel before wizards", she said, as she pointed at Voldemort with his wand. Even from where he was, Severus could make out the yellow gleam of her pupils. "We wail them Death".

Fiddler's hair flew wildly in the wind as she let out a bloodcurdling wail; her hand shot forward, grabbing Harry by the wrist, making him fell over from the wolf's back, and dragging him carelessly into the dome.

"NOW, HARRY!" she yelled.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Three jets of green light erupted from three different wands pointing straight to the Dark Lord; Dumbledore was standing where the wolf had been just moments ago, and he had joined his cry to Harry's and Fiddler's, looking every bit as fierce as them. His curse and Fiddler's hit Voldemort in the chest, whilst Harry's got him in the head. It rebounded and hit Harry back, but he wasn't harmed.

The potion had worked.

Voldemort fell to his knees before them, and he dissolved in a swirl of green and red, a surprised expression frozen forever in his crimson eyes.

"NOOOOOOO!" yelled Bellatrix Lestrange, charging forward. "MASTER!"

She lifted her wand and aimed at Fiddler.

"Avada Kedavra, bitch!"

Severus struggled to get to his feet despite the ropes, as he watched the green jet of light flying to hit his wife.

"Fiddler, GET DOWN!"

It was Briallan, who bolted forward, shielding Fiddler, pushing her back to the ground, and getting the full impact of the curse.

"LIVE!" she screeched before she hit the grass.

At that minute, Ministry Wizards Apparated all over the place, and they took care of the remaining Death Eaters, all of them ostensibly too stunned to put up a struggle.

Some mediwizards turned up as well, and they displayed an overwhelming fuss over the injured members of the Order of the Phoenix, but paid no attention whatsoever to Severus, still bound and Stunned in the spot. Of course, they also didn't dare to get close to the remains of the magical dome, where Dumbledore, Harry, Briallan and Fiddler still were.

Severus beheld Fiddler, looking at the fallen figure beside her, too shocked to utter a word. He took on Briallan's long, dark-tinted hair, covering her face and upper body, and the black robes that she wore; he then looked back at Fiddler, blood still dripping from the wound on her side, hair disheveled and damp, yellow eyes shining in the dark...

And he nodded silently.

Oidhche and Báistighe…

You have spilled my sister's blood.

Not Fiddler, but himself… Twenty years ago.

Poetic justice at its utmost…

Live.

 My blood shall give you life.

Severus felt himself drift off, and he barely registered Fiddler approaching to finally release him, he almost didn't feel the soothing warmth of her body supporting him upright.

"The Moon has spoken", he said in a hoarse whisper. "The wolf has howled. Hail to the new Banshee".

And he fainted.


	38. Epilogue Mother's Mirror, Father's Prid...

Epilogue 

**Mother's Mirror, Father's Pride**

"Sweet Merlin, Douglas, _what_ are you _doing?" _

That was all Fiddler could manage when she stepped into the kitchen and found an assorted collection of books splayed all over it and all of her pans and cauldrons filled with nasty smelling liquids. She had just gotten back from work at St. Mungo's, where she had recently been promoted to Healer-in-Charge of the Emergency ward on the Spell Damage Floor, and she'd thought Harry and Ginny were supposed to take the twins for the afternoon, so Severus could spend his last evening before the term began in peace.

But apparently she was mistaken.

"Why aren't you at Ginny's?" Fiddler asked. "And _what_, pray tell_, _are you _doing_ with my cauldrons?"

"She forgot to pick us up, and I am brewing a potion, Mother, of course", her four-year-old son answered with a voice tone his father would have been proud of.

"Oh, a potion, is it? And did it occur to you that you could have set the house on fire?"

"I have it under control, Mum…" the boy pleaded.

His vocabulary never ceased to amaze Fiddler, but of course, both Severus and herself read to the twins a lot.

"Besides", her son was saying. "Rubria needs it. She's healing Father back there in her Hospital".

Fiddler gave up and laughed, sinking laboriously to her knees to hug Douglas.

"In that case, Mum better help you out with it".

She played around with the mess of herbs and… _things_ Douglas had stirred and took the resulting… _liquid_ to the nursery, escorted by her smug-looking son.

Rubria Snape had turned the room into a Toy Hospital in which all of her dolls lay in single beds, diagnosed with various and horrible diseases, covered in bandages, strapping gauzes and casts. Nothing escaped Rubria's healing fever, and even Douglas' racing cars and miniature Quidditch players were submitted to conscious medical treatment, along with Severus' shoes and Fiddler's hairclips, not to mention the family's pets.

The little want-to-be doctor walked around her patients, with her mother's stethoscope hanging precariously from one ear and one of her old coats dragging behind her as a bridal tail, guiding her brother and mother to her patient of honor: Severus, who was sitting on a wide, battered sofa covered with strappings from head to toe, a thermometer sticking out of his mouth and with every bit of his regal dignity surprisingly intact.

"Hello, my love, how're you feeling?" Fiddler asked him unable to suppress a grin.

Severus glared at her in mock outrage.

"Daddy is ill, Mommy", Rubria informed Fiddler, "but not to worry, I will cure him".

"I am relieved to hear that, Angel", Fiddler said, laughing.

"You won't cure him, _I will!"_ bellowed Douglas. "_I brewd_ the potion!"

"Brewed, Douglas", said Fiddler and Severus in unison.

"Yes, that. Sorry. But I did, though", the small boy added as an afterthought.

"That's magnificent, son", said Severus, proudly, although he didn't seem so thrilled when Douglas insisted he'd drink it.

It tasted like dead dogs.

  He managed not to spit it and handed back the flask to his son, who took it and smirked in a very Snape-ish way at Rubria, in a gesture that said all too well he considered himself quite above his minutes-younger sister; Rubria, being truly her mother's daughter, merely bowed at him mockingly… and then threw a surprisingly accurate shoe to his head.

"Children…" Fiddler said warningly.

"Why am _I _getting told off?" Douglas wailed indignantly. "_She threw_ a shoe at _me!"_

"You smirked at her, do you think I didn't see you?" was Fiddler's reply.

"Dad does it all the time!!"

"Yeah? And do you recall what happens to him when he does?"

Douglas looked at his father and roared with laughter. Rubria joined him.

_"Álainn"_, spoke Severus, taken aback. "I… think we're not setting the best example here".

"Um… You're right", Fiddler blushed slightly, but she carried on. "All right, you two, apologize to each other and may I never see you do that again".

Douglas looked at her grudgingly, but he was a little Snape after all, and he was as sensible as his father to Fiddler's undeniable power.

_But Dad's taller_, he thought miserably before he finally brought himself to speak.

"Sorry, Rubria", he said in a sing-song-burn-in-hell sort of voice.

"Yeah, whatever", his sister said dismissively. "Sorry about that shoe, too… But, on a second thought, maybe _you_ should apologize to the _shoe_…"

"MUM!" wailed Douglas, outraged.

_"Rubria!"_ exclaimed Fiddler as Severus laughed heartily, inwardly amazed at how much like Fiddler and himself their children had turned out to be.

"Apologize to your brother, Rubria Snape!"

"Again? Oh, _all right!"_ she gave in as she took in her mother's expression. "I am sorry, happy now?"

"Don't you try that tone with your mother, young lady", said Severus, and there was no trace of a smile now. "I want to hear you apologize, come on. To your brother _and_ your mother".

Rubria rolled her eyes and snorted.

"Sorry, Mum", she said, humbly. "And… I guess I am sorry, Doug".

"_Douglas"._

"Oh, for _crying out loud!"_

"That's quite enough!" Fiddler said. "Go back to play and shut up!"

"We can't play in silence", Rubria said. "We—" but she thought better of it and decided to keep silent. She gestured to her brother and they walked together towards the nearest bedded doll, wearing identical sulky expressions.

Once the row was sorted out, Fiddler walked towards Severus and nudged his legs apart so she could sit between them. She leant her head against his chest and sighed contentedly. She felt Severus' hands snake their way to her protruding belly and she smiled.

"Can you imagine how's it going to be when there's _three _of them?" she murmured.

Severus let out a pained grunt and nodded.

"How are _you _feeling?" he asked.

"Oh, I am all right… Getting increasingly tired, but that's perfectly normal, given the circumstances".

Severus let out a low chuckle and kissed the back of her head.

"You haven't given up on the name?" he whispered.

"Nope", she said, shaking her head. "Briallan Deirdre Snape, that's your daughter's name".

Severus held her to him and sighed.

"She would have been honored", he said.

Fiddler's eyes were stern.

"She paid her dues… and so I shall pay mine".

_She's cruel_, Severus thought, even as he took her head in his hands so he could kiss her.

"I know what you think", she murmured. "And perhaps you're right. But I've learned to embrace my cruelness. I don't reckon I will ever forgive her… But I will acknowledge and honor her sacrifice".

"I love you", said Severus, eager to change the subject.

"I love you too", Fiddler smiled. She looked at their children, one of them bandaging dolls to death and the other trying to feed them the remainders of his potion. "You know", she said softly. "I just remembered a song".

"I am not surprised", he said, kissing her neck. "Which one?"

Fiddler's eyes shone suddenly as she recited the words.

_Safely away from the world  
In a dream, timeless domain  
A child, dreamy eyed,  
Mother's mirror, father's pride._

She lifted her head at Severus' tugging at her chin and closed her eyes as they kissed again with they rare mixture of softness and hunger. He cupped her face and locked his eyes with hers.

"That's us", he said. "That is definitely us".

                                                          **THE END.******


End file.
